My Once In A Lifetime
by Silvertongued Dreams
Summary: 'I watched as he went to receive his commission, remembering the beautiful times we had before Elizabeth Swann invaded his heart. My name is Ariana Perrin, & this is the story of how I fell hopelessly in love with James Norrington.' James N./OC. Slight AU. Rated T. **NEW CHAPTERS NOW POSTED**
1. As I Look Back

**AN:/ **Thank you for visiting the first chapter of 'My Once in a Lifetime'! I hope that you all enjoy it.

Happy reading! I will try to update at least once a week, but the life and schedule of a professional writer is never certain! Thanks ahead of time for understanding :o)

Please R&R! Oh, and Merry Christmas, everyone!

~ **Silvertongued Dreams**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I do not own _Pirates of the Caribbean,_ or, sadly, the dear commodore. _(in my mind, it's a different story, however!)_ I only own the OC's.

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><p><em><strong>'My Once In A Lifetime'<strong>_

**Chapter One:**_ **"As I Look Back..."**_

_I could scarcely breathe_. Never before had I laid eyes on a creature this beautiful, and, at last, he was headed my way. The illustrious James Norrington. I could feel my corset getting even tighter.

Looking as staunch and radiant as ever as he marched elegantly up to the platform to receive his new promotion and ceremonial sword, my dark brown eyes followed his every move. I even fancied I saw him winking at me as he passed, and that made me smile. It was not often that James showed his more relaxed side, and it comforted me greatly to know that I was the only person in existence who could make him don that smile that I found so terribly irresistible.

As the ceremony progressed, the crowds started to thicken, and though I had been standing in the front row, I was soon pushed to the back, as a gaggle of adoring women and respectable Naval officers flocked to the front, swamping him with congratulations and admiring looks. Ever so slowly, he started to fade away, out of my sight—but not before my gaze locked with his for a brief moment. In that one moment, I felt a surge of ecstasy, as my memory flew back to a time when it was just the two of us—a time before all the fame, and before Elizabeth Swann invaded his heart…

But, wait—I am getting ahead of myself. My name is Ariana Perrin, and this is the story of how I met—and fell hopelessly in love—with the most heroic man on the Seven Seas: the man any woman should dream of marrying. James Norrington.


	2. Two Years Earlier: A Challenge from Fate

**AN./ **Thank you, all reviewers and subscribers! Just so you know I am one of those obsessive authors who just LOVES reviews! If you do not review, I won't know who is reading, which may result in my stopping updates in the future! So, please, R&R, tell me what you think, just, no flamers, please :D

There is no Norrington in this chapter, but he will be in the next one, I promise!

Enjoy,  
>~ Silvertongued Dreams<p>

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Two<span>: A Challenge From Fate**

_**Two Years Earlier**_

"_Ariannnnnnnnaaaaaa!"_

I smiled, laying down on my stomach on the canopy bed in my room as I continued to write with my calligraphy set. Nothing gave me more joy than to write my heart and soul onto paper in a world where my thoughts and ideals would be nothing but ignored. My family and friends did not quite seem to understand me, but I did not care, so long as the hope of, one day, finding a man who wholly appreciated me, reigned above everything else.

My life had been far from ordinary. Born in Shropshire to an Englishman and his Spanish wife, my first years were relatively pleasant, and spent in a secluded part of the country—in order to avoid controversies—where my little brother and I would play for hours and hours, laughing as we danced in the rays of the golden sun. By the time I was four, I had lost both of my parents and younger brother, and since then, I had been taken in by the kind and generous Lord Ashworth, a widower who had been left with no children of his own. Had it not been for him, I would have been left to rot amongst the filth and terrors of an orphanage, and so would my adoptive sisters, Jenna da Silva and Stephanie Morrison.

Life had been very good to me since I had been adopted—being a part of Lord Ashworth's misfit family had proven to be the fresh start I had longed for. Under his watchful and protective eye, I had flourished and grown into quite an accomplished young woman, with an undying passion for writing. And, despite my heritage and what many people would dub my 'unusual' interests—I had not scared away every potential suitor in London: in fact, young aristocrat Alexander Forbes seemed to have a thing for me, and, somehow, I found myself not minding that at all….

"_Ariana!"_ the jolly voice of my best friend, Jenna da Silva, rang out again.

"Up here!" I returned, tapping my quill against my chin as I contemplated what I would write next.

Before my thoughts could get very far, however, Jenna came up to my room, panting and out of breath as she dramatically thumped herself down on my bed.

"HEY!" I screamed in horror as the large inkwell I had been using flew up into the air and spilled all over our dresses. "Oh, Jenna! Now you've done it! Green ink. _Green!_ And this was my favorite dress!"

"I am so sorry, Ariana," Jenna apologized sincerely, her sapphire eyes turning looking downward. "I was just so excited to tell you!"

"To tell me what?" I replied, furrowing my eyebrows.

— "Oh, Father hasn't told you?" interjected Steph, who had just come in.

"All right, since _when_ has my bedchamber become public domain?" I asked rather indignantly as I arched a clever brow.

"Listen, Ariana—!" Jenna squealed excitedly before she was cut off by Stephanie.

"Oh, goodness, Stephanie! You think that, just because you are the oldest, that you can just barge in here and spoil my sur—"

"We are moving to the Caribbean!" Steph exclaimed all in one breath, glancing at Jenna victoriously, to which the latter merely rolled her eyes and moved off of my bed and stomped over to the other side of the room.

My face fell, and I placed a hand over my now-racing heart. London had been my entire life—my entire _world!_ Everyone I had ever known and loved in this tight little suburban London community—I would never be able to see them again. In the few seconds that had just passed, my whole world had collapsed.

"A—Ariana? You do not look pleased," Steph replied with concern, sitting down beside me and placing a comforting hand on my back.

It took all I had within me to keep a blank expression, but any trace of restraint quickly started to fade away, replaced by a look of complete devastation. "How soon?" I asked in a choked voice.

"Within the fortnight, I am afraid," Steph replied in a greatly lowered voice. "And we cannot take much with us."

This was all too much to take in. What little bit of my world I would have left would also be taken from me—and it was beyond me how my two dearest friends could be so elated! How could they be so happy knowing that I would be going through such pain?

"The change will be good for you, sweetheart," Steph said kindly. "It—It will give you an opportunity to get your head from out of that imaginary little world you shut us out of so often. My dear… this can be the adventure you have always dreamed of!"

I breathed shakily, and stood upright, looking out of the bedroom window and down into the beloved garden that had been my unchanging view ever since I was a little girl.

"Ariana, please—"

The tears welling up in my eyes started to drip liberally down familiar well-worn trails on my face. "I—I have to go out," I spoke through my strained sobs. "Excuse me."

With those words, I fled the room, crying bitterly as I rushed down the carpeted stairs of Lord Ashworth's mansion, and down into the luscious gardens, where I collapsed amongst the heart-shaped enclosure of rose bushes and indulged my tears.

"See, Stephanie?" Jenna scolded, waving a finger in her face: "I _told_ you it would have been better if I had been the one to tell her!"

Steph rolled her eyes. "Haven't I told you _often_ how much I hate being called Stephanie?"

"You… you are so… so…" Jenna argued, breaking off as she began to realize that she really had nothing she could put against Steph. "Ugh."

"I'll go talk to her," Steph said softly. "Oh, but one thing."

Jenna turned to look at her, and felt rather penitent for having scolding her so. "Yes?"

"Have I ever told you how much I hate being called 'Stephanie'?"

Jenna scoffed, and forced a smile. "Yes, well… you should… probably, just… go and see how Ariana is doing." Her face betrayed her, however, and, past it all, Steph could see that she was trying to apologize for being so childish—without actually saying a word.

With those words, Steph nodded, and, with one last look at Jenna, stepped out of the room cautiously.

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><p>Even after all of the suffering I had had to deal with in my life, at that moment I hardly knew how to take everything in. It had always been hard for me to adjust to change, but, yet again, never before had I been faced with one this… <em>monumental<em>. My lips quaked from crying as I thought about all the people I would be leaving behind. Why would Father wish to move to the Caribbean? Never before had referred to the organizations he founded as anything more than a routine charity to keep the 'save the world' people from off of his doorstep, hounding him for money. Never before had he expressed any actual _interest_ in any of his organizations—so, what had caused the change?

Before I had a chance to think any further, I felt a warm, reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"Bless you, my dear child!" came the kind voice of my adopted father, Lord Ashworth, spoke gently to me as he sat down on the bench beside me. "Whatever is the matter?"

"F—Father!" I exclaimed, quickly sniffling back any tears I still had in me. "I am ashamed that you should find me in such a state!"

"Hush, there, now, every young lady needs to cry now and then—otherwise, they would not be much of a young lady, would they?" he asked with a charmingly innocent smile that made me laugh despite myself.

"Tell me, my dear—what bothers you so?" he asked, wrapping an arm about my shoulders comfortingly.

"You shall probably think me rather silly," I returned with a nervous titter as I wiped away more tears.

"Nothing that makes my darling daughter sad shall ever be deemed foolish in my eyes," he replied, squeezing my hand. "Now, tell me. What makes you weep so?"

"S—Steph told me that we are going to be moving," I returned. "To the Caribbean."

Father shrunk back. "Did she, now? Well… it was not her business to go around spreading such news."

"Is it true?" I asked, wiping away my tears.

"I am afraid so, my child, but I had wished to tell you _myself,_ for I know how dearly you love this place, and how much you shall miss everyone—particularly Shayla Forbes, and her brother, Alexander. I know that you have grown particularly close to them of late—that is why I wished to hold off telling you about all of this until we had a chance to talk in private. Apparently, though, the excitement was _just_ too much for Steph and Jenna to resist."

"Would it be untoward if I were to ask… the _reason_ for this sudden decision?" I asked, relieved that I was finally starting to calm down.

"No, it would not, but should I disclose it to you, it would put me in a rather awkward position, I am afraid," my father replied with undeniable regret in his voice. "Let's just take this as a challenge from Fate, all right, my sweet Ariana?"

"But of course, Father," I returned with a bittersweet smile. "I trust you—more than anyone else in the entire world."

"I know you do," he returned in a soft whisper, kissing my forehead tenderly before pulling away and looking at me with soulful and quickly saddening eyes.

With those words, I began to walk away, a small smile on my lips. Talking to father always helped sponge away some of the pain—I knew that, deep down, he knew what was going to be the best for my sisters and I. Even if it meant separating us from all that we had been familiar with.

Little did I know, at the time, however, that this decision to move to the Caribbean had absolutely nothing to do with interest in his charities, or wanderlust, or anything of the kind….

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><p>Well, well! Poor Ariana has no clue as to the wondrous changes about to future that awaits her in the Caribbean… and a certain attractive commodore… (winks) Anywho… hope you enjoyed, so please <strong>R&amp;R<strong>! And if you have any questions, just let me know! Another thing, I tried really, REALLY hard to not make Ariana Perrin a Mary-Sue. Did I succeed in making her a likeable character, or no?


	3. The Wait is Hard

**AN./** Hello again! Here is my introduction to Norrington… I am trying to keep him as much in character as possible! :o)

Enjoy reading, and, as ALWAYS, please R&R! Thank you! No flamers, please.

~ **Silvertongued Dreams**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Three<span>: ****The Wait is Hard**

"_Blast,"_ Norrington growled, slamming a mile-high pile of letters onto his desk.

"More invitations, Commodore?" Lieutenant Phillip Gillette teased charmingly as he walked into the open-air tent that was currently serving as James Norrington's office.

"How_ever_ did you guess?" Norrington returned rather sarcastically.

"Uh, you know… I would be _more than happy_ to go in your stead…" Gillette broke off with a small smile.

"Oh, I am sure you would, Gillette," Norrington returned. "But, as an abider of the law, and an officer of the King's Royal Navy, I shall not allow you to impersonate me merely to keep me from personal annoyance." James lifted his half-full champagne glass in a toast to his best friend. "Though I heartily thank you for the offer."

"I will admit, it was a rather self-serving proposal."

"I know," Norrington returned with a twinkle in his eye as he poured a drink for his friend.

"_Touché," _Gillette chuckled, taking a sip of the bubbly champagne James had just handed to him.

"_Ohhh_," Norrington sighed. "These _dull_ balls. I mean, I love dancing, but when every woman one meets is merely a replica of the previous in tastes, talents, and speech, I cannot help but despair. Gillette, women today—they are taught how to think! I need a woman who has a brilliant, living mind—a loyal woman who will trust me implicitly and want to _be with me_… no matter what! A woman that wants to be an upstanding figure in the social world and a mother to my children. But most importantly, she must be one who wants to kiss me, always… and never let me go…; one that will want to _touch me_… and love it when I touch her back…."

"James…." Phillip broke off, "I'm, er, starting to get a little worried about you. You sound like a character out of one of those Shakespearean tragedies."

"It seems that tragedy is my fate," Norrington sighed sadly, burying his face in his hands. "It is completely _hopeless,_ Gillette. I might just as well go off and marry _you_._"_

Gillette's face reddened with alarm. "Sir!"

Norrington let out an almost inaudible chuckle. "It was a _jest,_ Gillette—I was just—oh, never mind." Gillette watched as James slipped into a reflective silence, and did everything but look at him. They had known each other since boyhood, and never before had the jolly Phillip seen his best friend and superior officer this somber.

For many moments, James did absolutely nothing but stare listlessly about his humble office and think. The deeper his muse became, the more he fidgeted, and twisted the gold ring on his left hand back and forth restlessly.

It was then that Phillip noticed the ring, and he nodded to Norrington. "What's that?"

"Wha—this?" James asked, forcing an uneasy smile as he continued to turn the ring repeatedly around his finger. "Oh, it's—it's nothing."

"Now, I _know_ that it's not nothing, James Norrington—don't you lie to me," Gillette returned, half-teasing, half-earnest.

"Really, Phillip… I'd rather not get into it—"

"Shut it, James, now, tell me!" Gillette snapped, and, once seeing James's reaction, twisted his lips into a smug, victorious smirk.

For a moment, Norrington looked down at his desk.

"Gift from a lover?" Gillette prodded.

"No, erm… it's… a purity ring."

Gillette furrowed a brow. "Uh… goodness!" he exclaimed in surprise. "So, you mean, you've _never_—_"_ He imitated an explosion.

James Norrington's eyes widened in astonishment. "See, Phillip? This is exactly _why_ I didn't want to tell you. You ask too many questions."

Gillette chortled. "I suppose I do. But, why, James?"

Norrington looked up from his desk, and wore a faint smile. "I am waiting."

" '_Waiting' ? _James! Are you out of your mind? You are a _brilliant_ officer! Meaning that, eventually, you will be jumping from post to post, without any time to form even a remote connection with a young lady. Why wait—"

"Because, it would not be fair, Gillette. To her or to me."

" 'Her'… who?"

"The lovely woman I have yet to meet—the woman I shall ask to be my wife. I will not have the beauty of our wedding night cheapened by careless flings that have been had along the way. I want to be special to her—in a way I never would be, otherwise."

"James—"

"Look, Phillip—I don't want to argue with you!" James returned, holding up a hand in protest. "You can hold to whatever morals you want, and that is fine with me. Just… don't comment on how I chose to live _my_ life, all right?"

For a couple of moments, Gillette opened his mouth to speak, but found himself fumbling for what to say. "Well, _**sir**_… it is not like I disagree with you—in fact, I believe that what you're doing is very noble…."

Norrington smirked. "But for an officer of the Royal Navy to make such a commitment is practically unheard of—is that what you were going to say, good friend?"

"Y…_es,"_ Phillip hesitated.

"Well, then, Lieutenant… I hope that I make a difference in this matter, amongst others, and will be a stellar example to those of my crew who would normally not give this matter any thought," James returned with a kind smile. "Not that I condemn them for their actions, of course. There have been many times where I have come close—well, when my body wants to act against me—"

"You need not say any more, Captain," Gillette returned with a smile. "Actually… I have some paperwork that I need to complete before heading up to Fort Charles. But, there is one thing I should like to know, before I go."

James looked at his lieutenant expectantly, and folded his hands together. "Yes, Gillette?"

"_How do you do it?"_

For a moment, Norrington looked around, saying absolutely nothing—barely even breathing, and then, there came a heavy _sigh_. "The wait is hard," James swallowed. "Harder than you could possibly imagine."


	4. What If?

**AN./ **_THANKS _for reading! I appreciate all of you and your comments very much, and I hope that you _**stragglers**_ (Yes I know who you are!) will start commenting! Thanks. Also, please check out my other stories:

**PotC **_(Films/Bks.)_**:** _Pirates 12 Days of Christmas__, _& _No Longer Frenemies, but Friends_!

The links to them are on my profile. Thank you.

_PLEASE_ **R&R**! Now, without further adieu, here is the next chapter. Enjoy. Plz. note I am publishing a new book shortly so updates will not be as regular, I apologize.

~ Silvertongued Dreams

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Four<span>: ****What If?**

After the talk I had with my father, I felt more at peace about the move—though, not by much, at least my tears had stopped falling. At least, now, I could go to the Forbes's and keep a straight face for as long as I needed to.

Fortunately, the Forbes's mansion was only a few miles away. For once, I found myself desiring to walk—it would give me the solace I currently needed, and give me time to adjust to the idea, and practice how I was going to break the news to my friend and her brother.

I found that time stood practically still as I walked leisurely down the dirt path behind the Ashworth estate. The sweet perfumes emitted from the blossoming flowers in the garden completely engulfed me, and I inhaled deeply. Would I ever see this home of mine again?

Before I even had time to answer my question, I found myself at the door to the Forbes mansion.

"Oh, my goodness! Ariana! Ariana, over here!" Shayla Forbes—a tall, skinny thing with long, straight red hair and green-blue eyes—squealed excitedly, gripping me enthusiastically and holding me in a tight embrace. "Thank goodness you are here! I was just about to call the carriage so I could come call on you! I—"

Shayla stopped in her tracks when she saw the look on my face. "Ariana? Wh—What's wrong?"

I sighed. "May I come in?"

"Certainly!" she replied, weaving her arm in mine and escorting me inside.

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><p>By the time I had explained to Shayla exactly what was going on, tears were in her eyes. Halfway through the conversation, Alexander also walked in, and sat down to hear what I had to say.<p>

"Ariana… this can't be! Are you sure it isn't a mistake?"

"I'm afraid it isn't, Shayla. I am to leave within the fortnight—and I have no idea whether or not we shall ever return."

Shayla gasped outright, and clamped both her hands over her mouth. Alexander shot up from his seat on the sofa, and started to pace the room, agitatedly. "Pardon me, Miss Perrin," he said in his gentle voice as he darted from the room.

I was rather surprised to see Alexander so upset. I had been friends with Shayla for a rather long time, and only over the past two years had _he_ taken extra care to develop a relationship with me. While I was touched that he had been so moved… I was also _confused_.

"Shayla?" I asked in a soft whisper. "Wha—What is the matter with Alexander?"

Shayla looked completely dumfounded—a note of concern in her gentle, unique green-blue eyes. "I really don't know, Ariana."

I have never been the type to just stand aside when I saw that someone was unsettled or distressed. Although I had no idea what had just happened to Alexander, or why he was acting the way he was acting, I knew that I could not just sit there, and do nothing. That would be just terrible!

"Excuse me, Shayla," I said after a few moments' contemplation, and I rose from the chair and departed to the grounds.

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><p>Once I had arrived outside, it was not long before I located Alexander, who had sat down on the cement bench in the garden to collect his thoughts.<p>

"Alexander?" I asked kindly.

The handsome young man leapt from his seat upon my words, and tittered nervously. "Ariana. I mean, Miss Perrin," he smiled uneasily.

"Hello, Alexander," I returned with a smile. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, erm, it—no, it actually isn't," Alexander returned with a soft scoff. "I… am sorry. I am not doing very well at this, am I?"

I laughed. "No, not very well."

His face fell a little bit.

"But that's all right!" I hastened to add. "What's more, you really don't seem to be yourself. Are you well?"

"Perfectly well, thank you," Alexander returned, puffing out his chest.

"Well, then," I returned with a smirk, turning on my heel: "Now that I know you are quite all right, I think… I'd… best get back home."

Just as soon as I turned my back, I felt Alexander's hand grab desperately at my wrist, and spin me towards him. "Don't go," he begged. "Stay here. Stay here, with me."

Before I even had a chance to respond, his hands had fallen to my waist, clutching me possessively as he pulled me close to him, and drew me into a heartfelt kiss that I had most definitely _not_ expected.

I was not revolted, rather, if anything, I was filled with surprise. I was surprised at his bold actions, and I was surprised at how much my senses had been titillated….

Alexander Forbes had never struck me to be a passionate man. While charming and undeniably sweet, he had always seemed reserved, and close to no one, except for his sister. I looked at him new with an entirely different set of eyes as his forelock of sandy blonde hair fell in front of his sapphire eyes and our kiss deepened….

A few moments passed before I decided to pull away, and panted. "_Alexander…_._"_ I began softly. "What… just happened?"

Alexander's face grew pale. "My God… did you really have no idea?" He backed away from me, looking completely embarrassed, and turned around, scratching his chin agitatedly. "I am so… _so _sorry. I should never have kissed you like that."

"Alexander, I don't understand," I returned in an almost choked voice. "I… don't understand."

Upon those two words he turned towards me yet again, and grasped both my hands eagerly. "I have _worshipped_ you… for so many years. For so many years I have sat in the shadows, gathering up the courage to tell you how ardently I admire and… love you."

"Alexander, I always knew that you liked me, but never on my life did I imagine—_"_

Before I knew it, his face looking all sweet and handsome as he looked up at me, Alexander fell to his knees, and pulled out a velvet case, which held a gleaming diamond ring.

"Miss Ariana Perrin," he broke off with a breathless smile: "will you make me the happiest man in the world? Will you be my wife?"

I gasped; words could not express everything that I was feeling at that moment. Was it shock? Was it delight? Or was it fear?

All I knew was that I was completely breathless, and that, no matter how long I had _claimed_ to know him, I had never really known him at all. And perhaps that was a good thing. But I knew one thing. I knew that I was not going to wait around, speechless, and do nothing to find out.

As Alexander waited for my response, I smiled down tenderly at him, and rested a hand on his shoulder. How could I have confused this love of his for an infatuation all this time?

I chuckled softly, my face erupting into a smile as he slowly rose to his feet, and grasped my hand tenderly.

"Is that a yes?" he asked eagerly, a ray of hope in his dazzling eyes.

I stood, unable to say a word, though I desperately wanted to. Then, to my great surprise, I found myself saying the only thing that came to mind. "I suppose that it _is_… Alexander."

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><p><strong>Haha! You weren't expecting that, were you? I certainly hope it doesn't seem like I am rushing things along with Ariana and this whole proposal thing with Alexander. They had known each other forever so I think that I am safe :D <strong>

**Anyway, please **_R&R_** to let me know what you think!**


	5. I Close My Eyes, & The Flashback Starts

**AN./ **Another chapter for you to enjoy—again, I probably won't be updating as often because my novel's deadline is coming up soon… although I am almost done :D. Thank you ahead of time for understanding**.** This whole fiasco should be over within a few weeks.

Thanks to my friend **elanordaughterofeowyn** for her idea of a flashback—I felt it might be needed but she only confirmed it :o) Please check out her story _'If Ever I Would Leave You'!_ It is really good.

Please **R&R**, and, as always, enjoy!

~ Silvertongued Dreams

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Five<span>:**** I Close My Eyes, And The Flashback Starts...**

Alexander exclaimed in delight, clasping his hands on my waist and lifting me up and twirling me 'till I was almost dizzy.

"Ariana—you have made me so… _overwhelmingly_… happy…."

I tittered uneasily. "I am… glad… of that, Alexander, but…" I groaned in pain.

"Ariana, are you unwell?" he asked eagerly, concern filling his eyes.

This was all too much for me to process. The move, an engagement… which meant that I would be _married_ sometime soon… oh, good Lord!

"Seriously, Ariana… I am concerned for you," he said in a soft tone.

"Playing the part of a fiancé already, Alexander?" I asked with a slight laugh.

"Well, of course_—_I love you and want you to be as happy as I am… and… as _well_ as I am." His eyes scanned my body. "You don't look well at all. Are you certain you are all right?"

I hung my head slightly. "Well, erm… this is a lot to process all in one day. And, of course, you know, I will be still moving to the Caribbean, despite your offer. I cannot abandon my father. He and my sisters mean _everything_ to me."

Alexander bit his lower lip, attempting to look as passive as possible. "I understand completely. Go, please… go and take all of the time you need to absorb all of this."

I actually found myself gripping his hand tenderly. "Thank you for understanding," I returned with a bittersweet smile, and I prepared to make for home.

"Oh, wait," he returned with a blush, pulling out the engagement ring and slipping it on my finger.

"Thank you," I replied in a practically inaudible whisper as I backed away into the trees, back to our estate.

As I ran, I found myself gasping in unbelief as I looked down at the ring now adorning my hand. How could this be? How could I be engaged? Everything had come upon me so quickly that I wasn't quite sure _what_ to think.

Being in love was not quite what I had fantasized it would be. If being in love was what I felt like when I was around Alexander, I was ready to curse the world for having so grossly deceived me. But why was I feeling this way? There was no other man in my life that I cared for nearly as much as Alexander. No one could give me such a promising future as Alexander could. Marrying Alexander seemed to be only practical.

… But who said that love was practical?

Once back onto my adoptive father's estate, I made my way over to my favorite tree—an apple blossom trees whose blanketed rose-pink flowers blushed like gentle maidens, and concealed me as I pushed aside nature's curtain to sit on the low-hanging branch that so often afforded me a comfortable seat as I read to my heart's content, or calmed the storms that raged in my soul, as they did now.

Leaning back, almost peacefully, I sighed and closed my eyes, unwittingly letting myself fall into a deep slumber.

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><p>"<em>Wait for me!" I panted, out of breath, as I chased Shayla and her older brother, Alexander, across the field of golden wheat that lay before us. Although the three of us were ranging in age from twelve to fifteen, and we were supposed to 'mature young adults', none of us seemed to care that we were breaking all of the boundaries for the sake of good fun.<em>

"_Come along, Ariana! Honestly, you are as slow as a tortoise!" Alexander chided._

_I scoffed. "Well, _thanks,_ Alex!"_

_As Shayla continued to frolic through the tall heads of wheat until her gorgeous train of red hair completely disappeared amongst the golden waves, Alexander stayed behind, and held out is hand._

"_You do know that it is improper_—_holding hands, I mean. What_ever _will people think?"_

"_I don't care what people think—I only care what you and Shayla think," he returned with a broad grin._

"Alex—_" I scolded._

_My skin froze a bit when he took his soft finger and ran it across the outline of my jaw. _

_I was growing rather uncomfortable—but flattered—by his attentions, and I was about to say something when Shayla emerged, huffing with exasperation and exhaustion._

"_Well, I've just about had it with you two!" Shayla scoffed, resting her hands defiantly on her hips. "We are _never_ going to make it to the blueberry bushes before the sun sets if you two lovebirds keep on dawdling back here!" I could tell that she was immensely frustrated._

"_Sorry, Shay Shay," I taunted with a playful wink. I _knew_ how much that nickname taunted her. "And, by the way, we _aren't _loveb_—_"_

"_You called me by the forbidden name! DIE!" she exclaimed, grabbing a nearby stick and pouncing me._

_I let out a rather unladylike squeal, rolling over with her on top of me, still playfully hitting me with the stick as though it were a sword. _

_Once _I _was the one on top by opportunity I clutched a nearby stick and pushed her off of me, and we got up in a wild fit of giggles, tapping our swords together like we were pirates and charming Royal Navy officers._

"_I'll get you, you Blue-suit!" Shayla exclaimed in the silly, carefree manner I was so fond of._

"_Never on your life, pirate!" I returned gaily, tapping her stick harder than she did mine._

"_Uggh," she groaned, still fighting but getting rather tired._

"_Stalemate, is it, then?" I asked, feigning a serious tone._

"_NEVER!" she cried, a sudden surge of tomboyishness raging through her._

_It was then that_—_almost surprisingly—Alexander stepped in, grabbing a stick and joining in on all the frivolity._

_**Only**__… he more than tried to make off that he was my Prince Charming._

"_Stand down, ye renegade… AT ONCE!" he ordered in such a stern voice that I almost thought he meant it. My gaze went anxiously back and forth from Shayla to Alexander, as he pointed his newly acquired 'sword' about an inch's distance from her throat. "Withdraw from the lady, or I _will_ hurt you."_

_Shayla cleared her throat, then, after a few moments of hesitation, she reluctantly shot her hands up in an act of surrender._

"_I give in," she stated poignantly. "You've got me. Satisfied?"_

_Alexander's lips wrinkled into a sly smirk. "Indeed."_

_I laughed uneasily. _

_After a few moments, Alexander let his sister stand up, and she smoothed out the skirts of her plain, faded pink-colored calico dress, and began running off through the fields again._

_Alexander looked at me tenderly—apparently, still play-acting. _

"_Are you all right, Princess Ariana?"_

"_As fine as I will ever be—but, shush! I do not want the Navy to discover that I am truly a _woman…._"_

_He started to touch my cheek again, a move I found to be rather bold. I had always viewed him as sort of a brother, but the sensual way in which he was touching me made me feel gradually less comfortable, but flattered, all the same…._

"_ARIANA!" Shayla screamed once again, turning around. "Come along, or we will be late_—_"_

"—FOR TEA! You'll be late for _tea, _how many times will I have to say it before you move?(!)" Jenna exclaimed, and I bolted up from my sleep, and tumbled off the branch I had been resting on.

"Eek!" I yelped, my mermaid-styled snow-white dress fluttering in the breeze as I fell on my back onto the soft, green grass.

"Ariana!" Jenna screeched in alarm, rushing towards me with full force, supporting me by putting her hand behind my back and propping me up. "Are you all right? Is anything broken? Do I need to call a doctor, Ariana?"

I groaned, sitting up straight and massaging the back of my neck. My updo was all mussed, and my semi-curly hair hung out of place in quite an unflattering fashion.

"I think I would have told you if I needed a doctor, Jen," I returned, letting out a slight groan through pursed lips as I tried to readjust myself. "So, you said that tea was ready?"

"Yes, I did," Jenna returned earnestly.

"_Thank heaven…."_ I broke off in an inaudible whisper.

* * *

><p>Once we were back inside, we all sat down to tea, and everything was incredibly silent. I suppose my sisters could sense that something was still bothering me as I picked lazily at my food, pretending to eat.<p>

The silence at the long dining table in our luxurious mansion lasted for what seemed an eternity—though it had really only been a half-hour. The awkwardness that pervaded our high tea seemed as though it would never end… that is, until my surprise, _Father_ broke the silence.

"Ariana, are you feeling perfectly well?"

I ground my teeth together, still rather upset from all that had happened that day, but casually rolled my tongue inside my mouth before I decided to speak. "If you were really that concerned, why haven't you inquired earlier?" I returned bitterly, turning my head away.

"Ariana!" Stephanie exclaimed in surprise. "This is not you."

"Yes, well… how should you know what I am? You thought that I would be excited about this move."

With those words, I rose from the table, mumbling an 'excuse me' before I rushed up the winding staircase to my room.

I didn't care what I looked like, I didn't care what my family thought—all in the dear world I wanted was to be _left alone_.

Collapsing on my canopy bed, I buried my face in my two pillows and burst into a fit of sobs.

I had had a very trying day. That, at least, could excuse the most radical of my actions.

* * *

><p><strong>TWO HOURS LATER<strong>

It was nearly sunset when I awoke—apparently, I had cried myself to sleep, and when I realized what had happened, I blinked away what remaining tears were in my eyes, and went to my vanity. _I looked like a ghost_. My mascara was a horrid mess, and trails of black ran down my cheeks. Hastily, I pulled out a powder blue handkerchief and dabbed the corners of my eyes before even _attempting_ to clear my face of the blotched makeup.

As I attempted to clean myself, however, I heard my bedroom door creak, to which Steph, Jenna, and my father entered.

"Oh, dear," I mumbled to myself exhaustedly.

"It's all right, Ariana—we are not here to chastise you. I—I know that you would not have talked so harshly unless something was pressing urgently on your mind."

I looked down, sighing heavily before I made the slow turn towards my father and two sisters. What I said next was voiced hardly above a whisper. "Alexander Forbes proposed to me today." I swallowed hard. "And I… I said _yes_." As I told them this, I blinked my eyes, as if trying to awake myself from a dream. Had I _really_ accepted his proposal?(!) Had that really been me saying 'yes' to Alexander?(!) Doubt flashed through my mind for a quick moment, before Father's words penetrated my meditative silence.

"Oh, my goodness! Daughter—!" he exclaimed excitedly, gripping both my hands with enthusiasm: "Congratulations! He is indeed a fine man."

"You have our utmost good wishes!" Steph inserted.

"Absolutely," Jenna returned with great feeling—her heavenly, sky blue eyes shimmering with emotion.

"Th—thank you," I blushed, turning away. I was feeling rather terrible now—even more so than before. The more I thought back, the more I realized how _foolish_ it had been to accept Alexander's proposal so soon, and so rashly. And it was then that I knew that I would regret it for the rest of my life.

Alexander _was_ a fine man… but was he the sort of man any woman would dream of marrying?

* * *

><p><strong>So, is that better? Did the flashback help clear things up? Well, I certainly hope that it did! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please remember to <strong>R&R**! Thank you!**


	6. The Voyage To Port Royal

**AN./** Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review 'My Once In A Lifetime'!, particularly Spirit of the Morning Flower, SayHeyAndYayLuvApplepie, Agent047, and elanordaughterofeowyn! You are all so awesome! Please continue to _**R&R**_—your reviews are like FUEL—they give me the inspiration to continue when other people just read and don't review—it really gets on my nerves, I tell you, after all my Hard work I deserve at least a hello! **:o)**

**Note**: A new OC, Lana Simpson, is introduced in this chapter. In my head she looks like _Rachel McAdams__._ If you don't know of her, look her up!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to _**R&R**__!_ Thanks!

~ **Silvertongued Dreams**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Six<span>:**** The Voyage To Port Royal**

The fortnight till our intended voyage passed by rather a bit slower than I would have expected. Each day was used wisely—either packing or saying our goodbyes to loved ones with false promises that we would see them again soon—a mere attempt to whisk their tears away: and mine as well.

Shayla came by every day to assist my sisters and I with the packing of household items that would not be provided in our new home across the sea in the Caribbean. As you can imagine, she was _very_ much abuzz with excitement about my engagement to her brother, which was all she could seem to talk about. Which, ironically, only seemed to add pain to a memory I desperately wished to forget.

Although we all were readying ourselves for what was to come, Father _still_ had not told us much about the journey—not even where, in the Caribbean, we were headed. Though, having some knowledge of his organizations in Jamaica, I gathered that we would making port—at least—in Port Royal. Whether or not we were going to live there was another story entirely.

A few days before we were to depart, Father confronted me in the corridor.

"Ah, Ariana! I am so glad to have caught you alone."

My face went from elated to concerned. I could tell by his tone that something was up. "What is it, Papa?"

"Oh, nothing," he returned with a brief smile upon seeing the note of worry spread across my now-paling face. Taking hand in both of his, he continued: "I just have received word from the ship we are to take our journey on—the _Sapphire Dreame."_

"Well… isn't that a _good_ thing?" I inquired, arching a clever brow.

"Yes… yes, it is, but… there is a catch."

"What sort of a catch?" I asked with avid curiosity.

"Well… it _appears_ that gaining a passage to Port Royal was harder than I had expected. Frankly, I had to bribe the captain to take us on. His ship was already bursting to the seams with passengers… but he promised to take us on, on one condition."

"What is that?" I asked with eager interest.

At this, he swallowed hard—almost as if he was concerned as to what I would think. "He… said that… you each might only bring five personal items on the voyage—and, after some reflection, I have decided that two of these items must be dresses: one for everyday use, and one for church. Other than that, we are permitted only one trunk, which will bear any necessaries that will not be provided in our new home."

My eyes went wide. "Oh, _Papa!"_ I exclaimed in disappointment.

"Shh, shh, shh," he said, placing an agitated forefinger over my lips. "Now, I divulged this to you, knowing that you could handle this news with far more control than either of your sisters. Can I trust you to break the news to them?"

Still rather startled by the news—as I had assumed we might take a _little_ bit more with us—I nodded slowly.

"Good girl," he returned with an almost _relieved_ smile, giving me a gentle kiss on the forehead.

And with those words, he just… _walked away_.

I heaved in a shaky breath. Telling my sisters? That was _not_… going to be an easy conversation.

* * *

><p><strong>A HALF-HOUR LATER<strong>

"_What?(!)" _Jenna shrieked. "Ariana! Please tell me that you are jesting!"

"I am afraid that I am not, Jenna," I returned truthfully. "Just five items—and two of them need to be climate-appropriate dresses: one for church, and one for everyday wear. The _Sapphire Dreame _does not have much room to spare for such luggage as we would customarily wish to bring."

Steph flicked out her black, netted fan and let out a dissatisfied sigh. "Well, I suppose that we must make do, mustn't we?"

I tittered uneasily. "Yes. That is basically the long and short of it."

"Well, then… I shall have to do _all_ of my re-packing," Steph droned, rising from her seat on the parlor sofa. "Jenna, will you accompany me?"

"Very well," Jenna returned—her eyes dull with disappointment.

Then, they left me to myself.

* * *

><p>My sisters' packing spree took a full two days. Rather than interrupt them during their craze, I waited until the <em>second <em>day of packing was nearly over before investigating what my sisters were up to. Both were currently in Jenna's room, and, as Stephanie had already finished packing her things, she was assisting Jenna with her choice of what to bring.

My eyes widened as I stared at Jenna's wardrobe, large—but, now, practically _empty._

Jenna, who had never been a vain sort, packed nothing but dresses, for she deemed that 'only practical'. Steph, on the other hand—a ravishing beauty—had included her most exotic perfumes, and a vanity set that had been given to her by Father, last Christmas.

"Oh, there you are, my dear Ariana!" Steph exclaimed, letting out a comfortable stretch as she laid her back across Jenna's Queen-sized mattress. "What have _you_ decided to bring?"

What did _I _bring? Well, unfortunately, I was far more sentimental than both of my sisters put together.

I breathed in shakily as rested a hand over my beating heart as I left my sisters and walked into my bedroom and just _stood_ there. I don't believe I had ever stared this long at anything in my entire life. Oh, the agony that struck my heart! Everything that surrounded me had been a gift—a gift from someone dear. Everything that was there was precious, and had a purpose. Now, forced to choose, it was as though I would forever be cutting off memories I had built up over the years—memories I did not want to forget.

I sat myself down at my vanity, and stared into the mirror intently. On the outside, I looked calm—but everyone knew that it was a mask being worn for their benefit. They were all excited—while I, different, and unashamed, was _devastated_.

Part of me had been somewhat relieved to move to the Caribbean, since Alexander had proposed. At least the endless leagues of ocean would create a gap between us that, at the moment, I felt was desperately needed—he was being far too intimate, far too soon, while calling me his beloved as though we had been lovers for ages. I knew that he meant well, but with this large new relationship from disconnected childhood friend to mild infatuation to fiancé, I could not help but feel a bit degraded. Of course, I had loved Alexander more than any man I had ever met—the feelings I had for him were _confusing_… even to me. It was a strange sort of love, and I had never imagined that that romance would be something like this—a mere obligation to keep people happy. But what did _I_ know? Perhaps—as I was inclined to hope—this was not love _at all_.

I sighed heavily, then, looking down at my vanity, cleared my throat. Thing had changed _so_ much over the past two weeks. I hardly knew myself anymore!

With those thoughts floating around in my head, I anxiously twisted the engagement ring off my finger. I only wore it when Alexander or Shayla were around—much of me was still very uneasy about our betrothal, and the last thing in the world I wanted was to be confronted on our voyage about how lovely it was for a young woman of my caliber and social status to be promised for marriage at so young an age. So, thus, my endeavors were to get myself as _un_-used to the ring as possible.

Well… it _would_ have been lovely to be engaged, had I truly been in love. The longer I was engaged to Mr. Forbes, the more I realized that I had accepted his proposal because I did not want to ruin my old friendship with his sister and himself—or to, in any way, disappoint my father.

_Only one more day before we depart,_ I sighed heavily. It was shocking, even to me, how long I had been delayed packing what few things I could—oh, how difficult this was going to be!

Rising from my chair—it creaked as I did so—I glided over to the bed stand, where a seashell-encrusted jewelry case made its home. Opening the treasured case, I breathed in deeply.

_Well, at least with jewelry, you can wear it. I suppose that won't count for one of the 'five things' I need to bring,_ I thought to myself as I withdrew my beloved mother's string pearls and placed them in a neat coil upon my plush blanket. It was practically the only thing I had from her—and that, for certain, was coming with me.

I rose with hesitancy from my bed, and to my closet, and selected a forest green dress with light sky blue and silver trimming along the corseted bodice. That would serve as my Sunday dress.

Upon further speculation—as I looked through my other dresses—I found one that had been hardly worn, and was relatively new: however, it was very comfortable, and would prove to be climate-appropriate for Port Royal's blaring sunshine. The light cream-color and floral design would prove to be a nice complement to the bright blues and lime greens that would abound in the wistful Caribbean setting we were headed for.

Well, with _those_ two dresses picked out, I placed them on my bed, and, for a moment, scratched my chin, wondering what else I should bring. Then, it hit me. _I had not packed the family Bible_.

I was a devout Christian, and had been pretty much my entire life. While Lord Ashworth had been more than a father to me, from my childhood I still felt very connected to the limited past I had had with my dear mother, father, and little brother. I often wondered how different my life would be had they lived—had even _he_ still lived. It would have been _nice_ to still have a brother. Perhaps, this whole time, I had been caring for Alexander in the hope that he would somehow fill that large, empty, gaping, brotherless hole in my heart.

I anxiously swept those thoughts away, and clearing my throat, pushed aside all of the dresses in my wardrobe, and pried away the hidden panel in the back. An explosion of dust erupted in my face—making me cough violently for a moment—but as the dust blew away, I was able to remove the precious item lying, protected, behind it: the Perrin family Bible.

I sighed with awe as I blew away the dust from the worn leather cover of the 1500s masterpiece, and opened its yellowed pages with care.

The faded writing lying within left many untold stories for me to incessantly wonder about.

_But, not now._ Perhaps on my voyage—when endless, dull moments would reign. There, I would have a liberal amount of time to pore over these sacred pages.

With that thought in mind, I gently and carefully placed the Bible on my bed, and sighed. Now, I could only bring _one_ more thing….

That would be a far harder thing to choose.

The first thing that came to my mind was, of course, my writing implements. Being who I was, I would be completely _lost _without them. They _had_ to come. There was no question about it. I had no way of knowing if such refined calligraphic instruments would be available for sale in the shops of Port Royal—even when merchant ships came trading their goods.

Carefully, I went to my marble-topped desk, and put together my journal, two bottles of fine, black ink, and my calligraphy pen. Placing them all together—neatly and carefully wrapped in a small box—I placed it on the bed, then reached into my wardrobe for the small suitcase I had never had cause to use before. To my delight, everything fit in perfectly… and I had no cause to worry about anything else.

* * *

><p>THE NEXT MORNING, I woke up at 5 A.M.—all dressed and ready for the adventurous journey that lay ahead of me. Wearing a travel-appropriate, brownish-green cape and bonnet over my dress, I made my way down the staircase and to the front door, where I nearly bumped into Jenna, who was yawning like there was no tomorrow.<p>

The servants I had known since infanthood were crying all their tears over me with prayers that we would abide during the tumultuous voyage ahead of us. I could help but shed a few tears myself—some of these servants were like _family_ to me.

Our goodbyes were cut short, however, when Father ushered us out the door.

WHEN WE ARRIVED AT THE DOCKS, to my _not-_so-great surprise, my betrothed and his sister were waiting to put us on the ship. Self-consciously, I twisted my engagement ring back on. Also waiting to see us off were my very kind prospective in-laws. I felt a cold chill run up the back of my spine.

Almost immediately, Shayla grasped both my hands and gave me a kiss on the cheek: her eyes were red from crying.

"I am really going to miss you, you know!" she exclaimed in a choked voice.

"I know that," I returned in an equally emotional tone—my voice barely audible above the lapping of waves against the large, barnacled hull of the _Sapphire Dreame. _

"Write me often!"

"I shall try—you know how I do so love to write," I returned honestly.

— "Farewell, dear girl," Mr. Forbes said, dipping a polite bow to me. Behind that silvering beard and soft, gray eyes, I saw a gentle face, and returned with a brief, friendly smile.

Then, it came time to say farewell to Alexander.

He looked at his family for a moment as he possessively seized my hand. "Can we have a moment?"

With a warm smile, his parents and sister started to part ways as Jenna, Steph, and Father made their way up the boarding plank and onto the _Sapphire Dreame._

Once Alexander felt that we were alone, he grasped both of my hands, and drew me close: I could feel the weight of his body against mine and all of these strange feelings mixed together seemed to pull me closer—until I realized that it was all _him,_ drawing me closer with his hands on my waist.

"I love you, Ariana," he said with an adorable smile that made my heart sink to my stomach. _Oh, if only he knew…._

"I—I know you do," I returned with a safe answer: swallowing hard.

Alexander scoffed, taking my chin in his hands as he drew my face forward for a kiss. "Could I really have been so lucky? Ariana—have you any idea how much I totally adore you?"

I swallowed hard. I wanted more than anything to give this deserving man what he wanted and needed. But I feared that I could never learn to love him in the way that he needed me to.

Rather than try to move away, I let him do it. I let him kiss me, and realized how terribly unfair I was being in leading him on, as he pressed his lips to mine and gently closed his lips over my lower lip. I sighed as we broke apart… and he wore a sunny smile.

"In two years' time—in two years' time, I will come to the Caribbean to collect you, and claim you as my wife." His eyes beamed as he said 'my wife'. "Then, you can come back to England, and live with me."

"Of course, dear… Alexander," I returned, looking down at our hands—now clasped together—and swallowed. "I will write to you at least once a week. I _promise_._"_ Though, deep down, I knew that that would go no further than a good intentions: I could probably manage one letter per month.

I saw Alexander's heavenly eyes fill with tears as he finally began to realize that this was it: this was the end—he would not be seeing me for a very, very long time.

His gaze shifted a bit uneasily as he saw the last trunk being loaded onto the _Sapphire Dreame._ For a moment, his grip on my hands became _unbearably_ tight.

"Goodbye… my love," he said in an extremely choked voice as our hands drifted apart. Although British men are not supposed to weep, I could instantly see that his eyes were brimming with tears—tears that he did not want me to see. "Goodbye!"

His voice cracking, he ran off, and I saw him no more.

Then, I realized how much I would miss him… even _if_ I did not love him as a lover should.

"_Last call to board the __**Sapphire Dreame!"**_called a man hanging from the rigging as he looked down at me as the last piece of our luggage was loaded onboard. "Don't dawdle, love!"

I gasped as I was broken from my daze. "_Ohhhh…_ sorry!"

With those words I hastily scrambled up the plank, and onto the deck, where the others were waiting for me.

"All ready, my dear?" Father asked with a gentle and sympathetic smile.

I nodded simply. _Lord help me, my life is about to change drastically…._

* * *

><p>About an hour later, I was escorted, personally, by the captain, and into the room I was to share. While passing through the cargo hold, I saw the abundance of ladies' trunks and my eyes nearly bulged. Who on <em>Earth<em> would need all that luggage.

Scarcely before that question had had a chance to escape my mind, the doorway to my room was opened to reveal a strikingly beautiful redhead with dazzling, icy blue eyes and an undeniably spoiled, aristocratic air. Silver fox fur draped over her shoulders and her lips were stained hot red—separated merely by a dainty pipe that looked more like a stick of paper. She looked down at me with a superiority that was demeaning and disgusting.

I gave her a slight nod.

"Lana Simpson," she spoke through a pout, staring down at me. "And you may call me 'Miss', servant girl."

My cheeks turned _beet red_. What had she just called me?(!)

I closed my eyes and kept my back turned toward my bunk. I pretended not to hear her. Jesus loved me… and that was the only opinion that I needed to care about.

Cautiously, I placed my luggage onto the bed, and neatly removed what clothes I had brought with me. Carefully withdrawing the beautiful dresses from my carrying case, I carried them, with great care, over to the small wardrobe that had been placed in the room: the snooty Lana staring at me all the while.

Once I had managed to settle everything in nicely—including my writing set, Bible, and pearl necklace—which took up merely a small corner of the relatively cramped space.

I could hear the loud, rhythmic clicking of stiletto heels as Lana approached me, running her eyes over my corner of the makeshift closet.

"You're taking too much room," she stated casually, walking away in her ice-blue and glittery silver-lined dress with an exaggerated walk as she puffed smoke from between her pursed lips. "_Change it."_

I sighed heavily. Already, I was _not _liking this trip. And with this one woman here… I could sum up what this trip was going to be like, in one, agonizing word. _Trouble_.

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><p><strong>Well, I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter! I apologize if it was a bit boring <strong>:P . **I made it extra long hoping it will help soothe the interim without this story… I am going to be busy with my original writings for a bit! Please be sure to **R&R**—your reviews are what keep me going! **:o)


	7. The Monstrous Regiment Of Women

**AN./ **Well, I hope that you all appreciate the humor of this chapter! Which brings me to my special announcement:

_ANOTHER NORRINGTON CHAPTER! YAY!_

_Also, _today marks the 1-month anniversary of my membership on this lovely website! HUZZAH!

THANK YOU to Spirit of the Morning Flower, and to my good friend, elanordaughterofeowyn, for consenting to have a little appearance in this story. Nonetheless, an exclusive scene with _**MY**_ baby—aren't I generous? **;o)**

Well, enough of that (clears throat) My inner fangirl's been getting a little deprived lately **:D**

Also, a special thank you to my other good friend, _Shayla_, a.k.a. SayHeyAndYayLuvApplepie (she is always changing her penname **:D**), for playing an integral part in this story!

Enjoy! And please, **R&R!** Leaving a comment would really make my day **:D**

~ Silvertongued Dreams

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I do not own _PotC_—just my OC's and Norrington's hands and lips: I won them from the writers in a game of Liar's Dice! **:o)** LOL

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Seven<span>: The Monstrous Regiment of Women**

"Oh, God, Phillip—you _didn't,"_ James Norrington groaned, massaging his temples.

Gillette tittered sheepishly. "Well, I did. So _there_._"_

"Well, it's _one _thing to go offer me a relaxing evening at your place after a hard day's work… but it's another thing _entirely_ when you go off and invite _forty unattached women_ as well, and claim that it is a surprise!"

"Sorry to rain our your parade, James, but, well, you aren't getting any younger, and if you keep on with this whole 'saving yourself' routine… you are never going to get around to anything!"

James's face reddened.

"_Sooo,"_ Gillette quickly continued to avoid trouble: "Without further adieu, I give to you… a parlor full of the most eligible women in Port Royal!"

Self-consciously, James closed his eyes: his head hanging slightly. He could hear the tall doors in front of him open, and then, all he could hear was the sound of gossiping girls.

When he ventured to open his eyes—_(after all, how bad could an attractive group of women be?)_—James wished that he hadn't. Before him stood a gaggle of young ladies who eyed his attractive form eagerly, and rushed toward him all at once.

"Oh, dear Lord, Phillip, I am going to kill you," Norrington sighed in despair.

Gillette covered his mouth and stifled a loud laugh as all the women, as if moving in unison, came up to him all at once.

— "Phillip! Where are you?(!)" came a soft—yet somewhat scolding—feminine voice.

Gillette cringed. "Oh, dear."

"Phillip! Please, Cousin, be a darling, and—_oh_, my goodness."

The young woman, Elanor Westfall, a fair blonde with soft gray-blue eyes, grinded to a halt as she stood next to her cousin and surveyed the monstrous regiment of women before her.

"Oh, Phillip!" Elanor cried in dismay. "What are you doing?"

His face became beet red. "I well, erm, Captain Norrington, um, wanted to meet—"

"Don't listen to that lying prig," Norrington growled as he made for the door. "Why, he—oh, Miss Westfall!" he exclaimed, quickly replacing his momentary lack of protocol with a charming smile. "I had no idea that you were in town! How lovely it is to see you again." Upon those words, he took her small hand, and kissed it.

Elanor's pale cheeks colored a bright pink. Norrington had always been a fascination of hers—one that she hoped, someday, would come to full fruition.

"It is nice to see you again, as well, James," she smiled. "It has been _far_ too long."

James chuckled uneasily. "Well, I am glad that, after all these years, you still feel comfortable addressing me by my Christian name." He could not get his eyes off of her—he could not believe how much she changed over the past five years. No longer an awkward adolescent seeking guidance, she had blossomed into a very beautiful young woman.

"Of course, James. I cannot begin to tell you how much you helped me that summer," she returned with a sly smile.

Norrington stepped back, taking her in. "I am very glad that you remember that summer. It—was very special for me, too." He smiled warmly.

Gillette looked around agitatedly, staring at the horde of young ladies still gathered in his parlor. With one look from him, they realized that the party was over, and they started to dismiss themselves, one by one.

Like a gentleman, he nodded to each of them and escorted them to the door. Once the last one had left, he let out an _exaggerated_ huff of relief: only to realize that James and Elanor were still talking, and had not noticed his absence.

"Well, that's just great!" he exclaimed irritably.

Elanor turned sharply towards her dashing cousin: her long, pearl earrings dangling wildly in the air. "Beg pardon?"

"I… oh, it's nothing," he returned, biting his lower lip.

She gave him a gracious smile, then, turned back toward the dauntingly attractive Captain Norrington. "Well, James, Phillip and I were _just_ about to pay a call to Miss Julia Simmons! Won't you join us?"

Normally, Norrington would have said no, but the gleam of hope in Elanor's sweet and innocent eyes swayed him over completely.

"I—" he looked towards Gillette for approval: "—I suppose I might join you. But only for the sake of your good company, of course," he added with a charming smile.

Elanor laughed uneasily, blushing.

"Why, have I said something remiss? If so, I most heartily apologize," James returned with the utmost sincerity in his deep and mysterious jade green eyes.

"No—no," she replied, quickly clearing her throat. "Phillip, is the carriage ready?"

"Um, well, I actually never ordered it," he returned in a low, low tone.

"Oh, that's all right!" Elanor exclaimed sprightly. "We can _walk!"_

* * *

><p>Gaily, they walked down along the beach, past Fort Charles, and for two miles, they chatted in the blazing sun, until they reached the wide-reaching estate of Miss Julia Simmons, a rich young woman whose parents had died and left her <em>thousands<em> of pounds. Many men had sought her hand in marriage, for her fortune was a most _definitely_ alluring prize… but, unfortunately for them, there was—and always would be—just one man in her life. Her very possessive and domineering cat, Oliver.

"Well, here we are," Elanor said cheerily.

"I'll, uh, stay here," Gillette said, looking rather queasy.

Norrington looked at his friend skeptically. "Lieutenant Gillette, my good man, are you well?"

"No, not very," he swallowed. "I think that I will stay out here, if it is all the same with you."

"Now, really, that would hardly be proper—your cousin and I going in there, unchaperoned."

For a moment, Gillette said nothing. To anyone observant enough to notice, he looked like a poor man caught between two _very_ undesirable choices.

"Very well," he surrendered: taking in a deep breath.

Elanor furrowed her brows at him in confusion, but, being the sweet, doting cousin that she was, she decided to say nothing.

"Miss Westfall?" Captain Norrington offered his arm with a grin.

"Why, thank you, my good Captain," she returned with a pearly smile.

UPON ENTERING THE MANSION, they heard the endless purrings of a contented cat, and when the manservant, Jones, escorted them into the parlor, they were greeted with the unique site of Miss Simmons—completely stretched across the sofa—with her doting Tonkinese pussy Oliver curled up against her stomach.

"Ah, Elanor! You came as you promised! Your dear cousin sent word to me that you had arrived back in Port Royal!"

Elanor walked towards her nimbly, and planted a light kiss on her old friend's forehead.

"Thank the Lord! This old Jamacian town was getting rather _bor_… ing…."

Her voice trailed off as she leapt to her feet: her long train of golden brown curls bouncing as she moved up to Norrington with a careful and practiced stride. "Why, _Elanor!_ Naughty, naughty!" she teased in a singsong tone. "Who is this fine specimen of a man you have brought with you?"

James's face colored.

"Oh, this is Captain Norrington! He is an old friend of mine. He decided to tag along with us at the last minute. Captain, this is Miss Julia Simmons. And, Julia, might I present Captain Norrington?"

Julia wore a twinkle in her eye as she gracefully extended her hand to the handsome man before her. "_Charmed_… I am sure."

Norrington took her hand and kissed it—and Julia practically _shivered _with delight upon his gentle yet manly touch. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Simmons," he said politely.

"_Noooooo,_ I don't think so," Julia Simmons replied, straining a giggle as she backed away towards Elanor, and nudged her with her elbow. " _'Only a friend, eh?'_ " she whispered teasingly. "He's just too perfect!"

Gillette, whose face, by now, was turning purple after holding his breath for above two minutes, finally decided that he could take no more of this. "You _do_ realize that we are still in the room, don't _y_—AHH… AHHHH…. _**ACHHHHHOOOOOOOO!"**_

"Oh, Phillip!" Elanor cried in alarm.

"C—Cat. Severe aller—_**ACHOO!"**_

"Good God, man! You look like you are about to burst! Are you all right?" Norrington asked.

Rather than replying to him, he desperately grasped Norrington's overcoat: he was practically falling over.

"Help me! Get that ca—_**ACHOO!"**_

"Oh, dear," Elanor muttered sympathetically.

"GET THAT BLOODY FELINE OUT OF HERE!" Gillette practically screamed before he had to sneeze again.

Julia's face turned red with rage. "Don't you _dare_ talk to my Oliver in that fashion!" she exclaimed, rushing to her sofa and clinging the cat protectively. "If anyone should leave, it is _you!"_

The cat snarled as if in agreement.

Elanor's face went unbelievably pale.

"Out. Out!_ OUT!" _Julia exclaimed.

"I think we'd better listen to he—_**ACHOO**__!" _poor Gillette sneezed as Julia grabbed her maid's feather duster and started chasing them out with it.

"Definitely _not_ the greatest call I've made in all my days," Norrington, flustered, said once they were a safe distance from the mansion. "And I hope that it is the worst I shall ever have to grapple with."

Almost as if to contradict James Norrington's serious demeanor, Elanor burst into a fit of laughter, and Norrington, unable to resist the urge, soon followed.

"What's so humorous?(!)" Gillette exclaimed irritably.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," Norrington and Elanor returned in unison: their eyes still twinkling with their restrained merriment.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, there you have it! I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter, my lovelies! I felt that some humor was needed… LOL. <strong>_**ACHOOO!**_

**I have to work on releasing my new novel so please respect the fact that my updates will be a bit slower... but the next chapter is coming in a little bit… I promise! **:o) **Thanks.**


	8. So Alone

**AN./** This chapter supplies more Norrington, in a more intimate setting: his home. I hope you all enjoy! Also... I PUT A POLL UP ON MY PROFILE! Please check it out and vote for what story you would like to see from me next!

Please **R&R****,** and make my day! I need to know that you all still love this story! Thanks!

~ Silvertongued Dreams

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Eight<span>: So Alone**

Exhausted after his morning escapade, James Norrington smiled weakly as he looked out of his carriage window and saw Lordthorne Hall coming into view through the sheets of apple blossom flowers that partially shaded his view. Now that it was evening, all he could think about was dinner, a hot bath, and a good night's rest.

As the carriage pulled up elegantly in front of his mansion, the good captain alighted, his hat in his hands as he smoothed back the few loose strands of his short-and-locked, powdered white wig.

"Captain Norrington! Welcome home, sir," said a young strip of a girl named April Seax, who was his newest staff member.

"Thank you, April," he returned kindly, handing her his hat and sword. "Has Cook got anything ready for me? I am afraid I have had a very distressing day."

"Of course, sir," April returned with a wry smile as she scurried to hang his hat on the coat rack, and laid his sword beside the door. "One moment, if you please."

As April Seax rushed off, Norrington sighed, and collapsed on the sofa in his parlor. His eyes slowly started to drift shut: hiding his enchanting jade green eyes, and falling into the _wistful_ world of sleep….

James did not know how long he had been asleep, for when he awoke, it was almost completely dark outside.

"Sir! I am so sorry! I went off to inquire about yer supper, and forgot to come and get you!" April cried in desperation, shaking him gently by the shoulders.

"It's quite all right, April," James groaned, stretching slightly before rising, and straightening out his uniform jacket.

"Yer supper's waitin' for ya on the dinner table," she smiled sheepishly.

"Many thanks, April," he replied with a weak smile as he walked past her, and into the luxurious dining hall—then, he turned around for a moment. "Oh, and, please, have Marsdon run a bath; it will help me to relax after all that happened today."

"But of course, sir," April returned with a polite curtsy as she hurried off to do as he bade.

* * *

><p><em>Silence<em>. That was all the captain could hear. The dining room _echoed_ with silence. It was rather lonely in Lordthorne Hall, especially after dark, when all the servants had gone to their rest and he was left—alone—doing his paperwork, with no one to encourage him, no one to urge him to keep on going… and no warm, feminine body to curl up next to after a long day's work.

The food seemed to turn bitter in James's mouth as his thoughts wandered into the more sacred catacombs of unresolved feelings—feelings that he had not dared to indulge even in _private,_ for he was afraid: afraid that this desperation for love was a weakness… one that would drive his men to disrespect him. Or, perhaps, he disrespected himself for feeling so in need. Would he remain unmarried for the rest of his days? Would the days of his youth slip away into the vast ocean of time, until he lay frail and dying, all alone, forever to be forgotten?

Agitatedly, James twisted the ring on his left finger and sighed shakily. He knew that he needed to stand firm in his resolve, despite what Gillette and the others said. He knew that, one day, should Heaven wish it, a beautiful young woman would come to him and completely capture him, heart and soul. He would never be able to live without her.

_Alas,_ however, that day was yet to come.

After swallowing a generous mouthful of rich red wine, Norrington pushed out his chair, and, with a brief nod to the Cook, made his way up to the washroom upstairs.

Like a shadow, he glided across the floor to the empty tub sitting in front of the tall-dome shaped window overlooking his estate.

Staring out of it, in deep thought, he peeled away the countless layers of clothing, and stepped into the steaming hot water that had been drawn for his bath. Clothes hit the floor, and he stepped into the large tub lazily: letting out a deep sigh as he settled in and let the water soak into and soothe his skin—unknowingly lulling him into a restful sleep.

* * *

><p>About an hour or so later, James awoke to the startling sound of a knock on the door to his washroom.<p>

"Captain Norrington, sir?" Marsdon's deep voice rang out.

His ears perked up, Norrington sat up instinctively. "What is it, Marsdon?" he croaked, still rather groggy after his nap. He reached a hand up to his head, then realized that it was soaking wet, and scowled at himself.

"Captain Cutler Beckett is here to see you, sir. He is waiting in the parlor."

Norrington _groaned_ inwardly. The last person in the world he wanted to talk to that posh, sniveling snake. Especially when all he wanted to do was wind down, finish his bath, and go to bed.

James had not realized how long he had been silent, until Marsdon, once again, spoke up. "Shall I tell him that you shall come along shortly, sir?"

Norrington sighed, massaging his body with a bar of soap. "Very well. Please inform him that I will be but a few moments."

"As you wish, sir," Marsdon returned: his footsteps fading away into the distant night air.

* * *

><p>About a quarter of an hour later, James had removed himself from the bathtub, and dried himself before redressing. <em>To blazes with the wig,<em> he groaned, leaving it hanging up as he made a quick exit to the drawing room… only to find Cutler Beckett sitting there calmly, as though he owned the place.

Like the gentleman that he was, James had since cooled off, and took a seat across from his unexpected guest… a man eight years his senior, but about eight inches closer to the ground. With steely eyes and civil manner, Norrington leveled his gaze at the man before him. It took all in his power not to show any form of deference to his charming military rival, Captain Beckett.

"Ah, Captain Norrington, there you are," Cutler Beckett commented with a wry smirk, rising from his seat for but a moment. He studied the man before him for a moment, and restrained an unkind chuckle as he noted the captain's somewhat-wet chestnut brown hair. "I must say, you look… rather… _washed up."_ He snorted a small chuckle out through his nose.

"If that was meant to be humorous, I must admit that I find—" Norrington stopped himself. He was too exhausted to get into an argument. "What is it that you wish to see me about, Captain Beckett?"

"Oh, merely to inform you of a development in our mutual interest."

" 'Mutual interest'?"

"Why, _yes, _Captain… you are to have new neighbours. Have you not heard the news?"

"No, I'm… afraid I hadn't. I turn a deaf ear to local gossip," he admitted.

"Well, then, allow me to enlighten you," Beckett returned in his always _subtle,_ mysterious tone. "An old friend of mine, Lord Ashworth…."

Norrington scoffed. "A man like you has _friends?_ My dear sir, you are about as lifeless and endearing as a lamppost." James could not believe he had just said that and gotten away with it.

Cutler Beckett ignored the captain's remark, and, staring down at his well-polished shoes, continued: "My old friend, Lord Ashworth, has decided to remove himself from his position in London, to consort with me, and to settle some…" Beckett twiddled his fingers: "_unresolved_ business…."

Norrington nodded, a signal for Beckett to continue.

"—And, what's more, he is bringing his family of beautiful young ladies _with_ him."

James furrowed a brow. "Oh, really? Are they very young?"

"Well, yes they are… but not so young as to be ineligible," Beckett smirked. "It has been quite a while since I have seen them, but the youngest must be, oh… at least seventeen."

"Culture and poise is exactly what this port town needs _more_ of," Norrington emphasized. "They will set a very fine example, I am certain."

Beckett chortled lightly, making himself at home as he reached for the bottle of brandy on the small table next to the sofa: pouring himself a glass and downing it all in one gulp. "And, I hope… they are open to relationships, for I have had my eye on one of them for the longest time. She looks to be a creature of the tropics… and my blood rises… at the very thought of how beautiful she must have become."

Norrington looked at his compatriot with confusion, and a bit of concern. But, before he could say anything, Beckett was already rising to leave. "I bid you adieu, Captain." He bowed politely. "Until tomorrow."

With those words, he walked away, and, out into the dark shadows.

Norrington shivered with disgust. Captain Beckett… there was just something about him that he detested… something that he could not place. However, that _something,_ he was certain, would—sooner than later—rear its ugly head towards something that he held precious.

* * *

><p><strong>OK! Attention, people! Within the next few chapters, my major plot bunny will start to unfold: <strong>_**Why Lord Ashworth needed to relocate to the Caribbean.**_** The mystery will remain shrouded for a little while longer, but keep an eye out for dropped clues….**

**Am I the only one who LOVES the little tyrant, Cutler Beckett? I think he is fantastic! Well, I loved Tom Hollander in 'Wives and Daughters' so I suppose it is no mystery why I have such a _thing_ for him….**

**Please **R&R! **Thanks!**


	9. A Walk Along The Beach

**AN./** It is I, Silvertongued Dreams, back again! I am Silvertongued Dreams: hear me roar! LOL.

Hope you all enjoy this chapter: Norrington again! Hooray! This chapter is for my good friend, _**elanordaughterofeowyn**_, in honor of her birthday, which is TODAY! Happy birthday! Hope you like it, luv.

I apologize if this is not a great chapter… I was a bit sick when I wrote this :P

I HAVE PUT A POLL UP ON MY PROFILE! Please vote for which story you wish me to work on next. I only have three votes so far... and the voting ends next week! Thanks!

Please **R&R!** Reviews are much appreciated, and help me to keep on writing! Enjoy.

~ Norrieo

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Nine<span>: A Walk Along The Beach**

It had been about a week since the 'incident' at Miss Simmons' residence, and since then, Gillette and his cousin Elanor had tried to keep away from any social gatherings, as Julia loved spreading the tale of how she chased two upstanding Naval officers away with a feather duster. Of course, in retrospect, Julia realized how silly it had been to do such a thing… and she told the story merely for her own amusement.

It was on one particular morning that James Norrington arrived at Fort Charles before sunrise, and made his way into his recently refurbished office.

"Good morning, Captain Norrington," Lieutenant Theodore Groves—a young man barely two years older than James—said with reverence.

"Top of them morning, Lieutenant Groves," Norrington returned with a brief smile. "Has the admiralty sent us more of that paperwork?"

"I'm afraid they have, Captain."

Norrington sighed. "Oh, what I would give for a mission! This paperwork is not meant for men like us, Groves. We are fighters! And we should be out on the open sea, exterminating those pirate vermin!"

"I… completely agree with you, sir," Groves returned a little hesitantly. Although he was supposed to hate pirates with a vengeance, he could not help but admire their courageous and fantastical lives… in a way.

"Ah," Norrington sighed. "Well, I suppose there is nothing for it. More requisition orders?"

"Those can only be signed by decree of Governor Weatherby Swann, Captain Norrington," Groves commented.

Norrington barely shifted his gaze from his paperwork. "Of that I am most aware, Lieutenant," he returned kindly. "Very well, hand them over, and I shall deliver them to the mansion _myself_._"_

Just then, there was a gentle tap on the door.

"Enter," Norrington said routinely as he stared down at the map on his desk.

"Oh! I am so sorry to interrupt," came Elanor's familiar voice, and James's ears perked up.

"Miss Westfall," Norrington said, instantly rising from his chair, as did Lieutenant Groves.

"Hello," she said nervously, taking in both of the comely, attractive men who stood before her, on the verge of gaping at her. "Captain, I merely came to—"

"James, she was merely accompanying me—please, don't be vexed," Gillette groaned, walking in, doubled-over.

Norrington raised his eyebrows. "Gillette, you look terrible."

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Gillette spluttered. "I'm not feeling very well."

"Perhaps you should stay at home: get some bed rest," Norrington said, his voice filled with a little concern.

"Thank you, really, but I will be all right," Gillette returned with a queasy smile.

"Then, if it is all the same to you, Phillip, I shall take leave. Groves—those requisition orders?"

Groves, who had been staring at Elanor, with his mouth wide open, this whole time, suddenly broke from his trance-like state.

"There you are, Captain," Groves returned, quickly handing Norrington the required papers. "Is there anything else that you require?"

"Oh, erm… keep an eye on Lieutenant Gillette, will you?" he returned with a quick smirk. Then, he turned to Elanor. "Miss Westfall, would you care to accompany me? It is just a short walk across the beach to the Governor's mansion."

"I—I'd be delighted!" she exclaimed, taking his arm.

Upon that assent, Norrington approached her, and offered his arm, which she took readily.

"We shall be back in about a half-hour, Groves… should everything go as planned," Norrington returned.

"Very well, Captain."

And with that, the couple disappeared.

Once they were gone, Theodore Groves sighed dramatically.

"Groves?" Phillip Gillette asked, furrowing his brows. "What on Earth is running through that head of yours?"

Lieutenant Groves sighed yet again. "Why does the Captain _always_… _**always**_ get the ladies?"

Gillette looked at him strangely. "What?"

"It is quite obvious that that lovely angel that just manifested herself has an eye for our superior commander."

"_Really?"_ Gillette asked, feigning cluelessness.

It was then that Groves noted the sarcastic note in his friend's voice. "You aren't really ill, are you?"

To this, Gillette merely sunk back in his chair, and smirked in a self-satisfied manner as he put his fingertips together repeatedly. "No. No, of course not."

* * *

><p>"You know, I am very glad that you could accompany me, Miss Westfall," Norrington smiled, turning to look at her. "I am not used to such pleasant female company."<p>

Elanor blushed bright pink, and hung her head slightly.

"Thank you, James," she whispered in an almost inaudible tone.

"For what, may I ask?" Norrington replied, his eyebrows rising a little.

"For… _everything_._"_

" '_Everything'? _My dear, what, honestly, have I given you?"

"You gave me hope that summer. I—I was in such turmoil after I lost my mother… and, after I came here to get away from things… it was _you_ who convinced me that there was still good in this woe-ridden world of ours."

"Sounds a bit over-romanticized, don't you think?" James returned, looking at her warmly.

"Not to me," she muttered silently.

"I am sorry," he returned in a low voice. "That was uncalled for, and I apologize."

"No, no… it is all right," Elanor returned. "Your honesty means more to me than anything else in the world."

Norrington let out a small chuckle, and scratched behind his ear nervously. "Yes, well… I think that the only reason I can allow myself to speak so frankly to you is because you are as dear to me as a sister."

For one, lingering moment, Elanor had a look of hope in her eyes: but it quickly died away. _A sister?_ The more sensible part of her had expected such a reply, but never on her life could she have been prepared for the pain his words would unknowingly inflict.

In that moment, something withered inside of her, and she retreated deep inside herself, deciding not to show her pain to him—the last thing in the world she would want would be to make him feel miserable, in any sense.

— "Are you all right, Elanor?" James asked, his face leaning in tantalizingly close. Elanor had stopped walking, and her face had become all forlorn and pale.

"Oh, I—I'm fine," Elanor returned.

"Have I said something to vex you?" James asked with concern. When she did not respond, he tenderly took a strand of her hair, and tucked it behind her ear.

"Please—Please don't," she stammered, shrinking away.

"As you wish," he returned, looking slightly bemused and, perhaps, a bit hurt.

"I… am not feeling very well all of a sudden," Elanor said, almost out of breath. "I think that I should return home."

"So soon?" James asked in a disappointed tone.

"Yes, I am afraid so," she returned in a sorrowful tone. "I am feeling very… very _ill_…._"_

"Well, then, by all means, let me escort you back to the Fort—these requisition orders can wait," James returned with sincerity.

"No, no—you go on ahead. It is not that far: I can go along on my own."

"I am afraid that I cannot let you do that, my dear friend. I would not wish you to go unprotected."

"James, I'm _fine!"_ she cried indignantly, jerking away from him. His eyes bulged slightly at her flared temper—something he had never before seen in her. "I am fine," she added in a softer tone. "Please, just go on. I'll meet you back at the Fort."

"Very well," Norrington replied, hesitantly giving in, and still confused about her shift in behavior. "Until then."

With those words, they departed, and he jogged toward the Governor's mansion, while Elanor Westfall's visage slowly faded into the distance.

* * *

><p>"Elanor! I thought that you were with Captain Norrington," Gillette said, concern washing over his face as he saw her: the color drained from her face. He paused. "Did something happen, dear Cousin?"<p>

"No… nothing of consequence," she returned with a forced smile. "If you are feeling better, Phillip, would you mind, very much, taking me home?"

"But of course," Gillette returned sweetly, wrapping an arm around Elanor's shoulders.

— "Miss Westfall," Lieutenant Theodore Groves's gentle and shy voice spoke up: "I should be _more than glad_ to escort you back home. Lieutenant Gillette has much paperwork to complete—"

"—I do?(!)" Gillette cried indignantly, to which he got a warning stare from Groves. Phillip quickly cleared his throat. "Oh, right. I _do_."

"—So, if you do not feel at all uncomfortable, I would be honored to take you, in your cousin's stead."

Despite all that had just happened between her and James, Elanor could not help but smile. "I should be _very_ glad of your company, Lieutenant Groves."

Groves raised a brow. "You… _remember_ me?"

Gillette, in the background, could not help but smirk.

"Of course I do!" she exclaimed, smiling broadly. "I remember everyone who has made a deep impression on me."

Groves's cheeks flushed bright red, and Elanor, seeing this, smiled good-naturedly, and wound her arm in his as the lieutenant—_speechless_—escorted her out the door.

* * *

><p>A gentle rap sounded Governor Weatherby Swann's office door, and Estrella the maid hastily entered, dipping an unceremonious curtsy, like she was in a rush.<p>

"Governor Swann, Captain Norrington here to see you, Sir," she said, all out of breath.

"Oh! Goodness, Estrella, don't keep the good man waiting! Let him in!" the Governor returned with enthusiasm.

Within a few moment, Estrella had ducked out of the door, and the handsome James Norrington stepped in.

"Ah, Captain," the Governor greeted with a weak smile. "How very nice to see you. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Norrington stood up straight, hands folded behind his back. "Merely to deliver some requisition orders that need to be signed, sir."

"Ah, I see," Governor Swann replied, sighing, as though a bit disappointed in his response.

Without a word, Norrington cautiously handed him the papers, and the Governor quickly dipped his feather quill into the inkwell at his side: scratching the tip along the papers with ease as he made his elegant signature.

— "May I be bold enough as to inquire after Miss Elizabeth?" James asked after a few moments' silence.

"I am so glad you asked!" Governor Swann cried, his eyes beaming as he withdrew a letter from underneath the numerous papers on his desk. "She writes that she is well. I—I know that it has been six years since I sent her off to that finishing school in London, but… I will admit that there have been times that I have missed her terribly."

"It is only natural, Governor," Norrington returned with a forced smile. "I know that, if I had a child—" James halted himself. He did not want to go there right now. As it was, he had been struggling enough with immense desire for the pleasures of marriage—he did not need to amplify those feelings by dwelling on something that he did not yet have….

"Captain Norrington; the requisition orders are all signed, as requested," the Governor said, handing them in a neat pile back to Norrington.

James let out a slight gasp as the Governor's words forced him to emerge from the mental fog in which he had entrapped himself.

"Th…ank you, Governor Swann," Norrington replied: his brows furrowing for a moment as he wondered how he had allowed his mind to wander so extensively.

"Farewell, Captain," Governor Swann said good-naturedly.

"Farewell," James returned, exiting the office.

* * *

><p><strong>OK! So, hopefully, that clears up any of your doubts about Elizabeth not being around… and, <strong>_elanordaughterofeowyn_**, I hope that you enjoyed this chappie! And the delicious Navy boy I gave you (wink wink, nudge nudge).**


	10. A Whole New Reality

**AN./ **(Yawns, stretches, opens my groggy eyes) _Hullo_….

Well, hopefully you enjoy this chapter, I am taking a lot of time trying to get enough chapters written so I will be set for a few months while I work on my novel(s), which are under contract. I will NEVER abandon my stories, at the very worst (which I don't anticipate) my stories will be updated merely once every **Two** weeks, or else, once a month in worst case scenario. Please understand—I love this story as much as you!

I have just recently posted a Groves/Gillette one-shot called '**Living In Our Hearts**'; please check out and _review_ if you can! Thanks! There is also a poll on my profile for what story I should do next. If you have not already voted, please do. This will be your _last_ chance.

Please **R&R,** so I know you are all still reading! Also, for your convenience, if you are a faithful reader and have not already added this story to Story Alerts, perhaps you should consider it so you get notified whenever I post. Thanks again! Motivation is everything **:D**

Without further adieu… here is your chapter! Blessings to you all. Oh, and I also re-enabled **ANONYMOUS** reviews so please review!

~ Silvertongued Dreams

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Ten<span>: A Whole New Reality**

**ARIANA'S SHIP'S LOG**

_**(Day 1)**_

The first night was horrible. Absolutely _horrible!_ The ship rocked unbearably, and Lana was seasick for the entire night, rendering me sleepless. I hardly know whether or not to tend to her; if I helped her, I fear that she might feel 'contaminated' by my touch. The touch of a woman whom she did not consider to even closely resemble a human being.

Well, the light is fading… so I can write no more… but, I hope that, in time—perhaps on the morrow, I shall have a chance to speak with Father, and my sisters, and refresh my mind with _wonderful_ things.

~ **Ariana Perrin**

* * *

><p>I awoke the very next morning, stretching and smoothing out my dress, then lightly running my silver-handled soft-bristled brush through my hair before rising on tiptoes, toward the door. My stomach had told me that it was time for breakfast… and I prayed to God that I was right.<p>

The thick morning mist enveloped me to the point where I had to extend my hand outward to ensure that I did not hit anyone. But, despite all of my efforts, I _did_.

"Oh, my!"

"Father!" I exclaimed, recognizing his voice anywhere.

He chuckled happily, gripping my shoulder. "I was just about to get you. Breakfast is nearly ready! And your sisters are _dying_ to see you." Father paused for a moment. "How was your night?"

I rolled my eyes. "Terrible."

Father chuckled sympathetically, winding an arm about my shoulder. "Yes… tell me about it."

* * *

><p>When Father had guided me to the dining hall, I was greeted by the very welcome sight of Jenna and Stephanie chatting gaily in their booth.<p>

"Ariana!" Jenna squealed, rising from her chair and practically tackling me. "How was your night?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," I returned with a simple smile that fleeted briefly and insincerely across my face. "Let just say… my flat-mate is not very… _charitable_._"_

"I am so sorry to hear it," Jenna replied, leaning up to kiss me on the cheek. "Here, come sit by me! Let Steph and I tell you of our little adventure on the way to breakfas—"

"_Girls,"_ Father said in a sterner voice than I had ever heard him used before. "Before you speak any further… I have a bit of an… anouncement… to make."

I did not like this hesitant tone at all. I had always been a rather paranoid sort… and what I sensed in his tone… was something of total despair and disappointment. I could only hope that my sixth sense had failed me, this time… but, I had this foreboding feeling that it had not.

"My dear girls," he began again, in a softer, unbelievably sweet tone as he gripped my hand tenderly, and then, rested his other hand onto Jenna and Steph's hands. His kind gray eyes started to fill with unshed tears as he looked back and forth into each of our faces, and gave our hands a special squeeze. "Up 'til now, I have kept the purpose of this voyage a secret from you, and I thank you for not pressuring me into giving you an answer. But, I find myself in inner turmoil for your sakes—I have never kept secrets from you, and this is a monstrous one. I… _need_… to you acquaint you with the situation, be it as gradual as I can—"

"Papa," I said tenderly, noting how agitated he seemed; "What is bothering you? Please, tell us—we can handle whatever it is."

Father sighed heavily. "Well, as you all have probably gathered… this voyage is not for pleasurable reasons. The nature of the business that calls me to Port Royal—indefinitely—is… _inescapable_._"_ He swallowed hard. "I got into business with the wrong people, and now, I must pay with it… with practically everything I am, and have."

Jenna furrowed a brow at Father with concern. "What does this mean, Father?"

Father's voice became all shaky, and I squeezed his hand reassuringly.

He could take it no more, and his voice cracked. "My loves, I am so sorry!" he broke down ashamedly. "I have made some _very_… bad choices… as a businessman… as a Father…."

"Papa…" I broke off tenderly, to which he squeezed my hands and his hurting face met my gaze.

"I have lost everything," Father said in a hushed, hushed whisper. "The—the debts were just too massive… and… I had to sell the mansion… along with all of its contents. Even then, my debt is far from absolved."

Steph gasped, but quickly covered her mouth to mask her surprise from anyone else who might have been watching us.

"We've got nothing but the clothes on our backs, my girls," he continued in a choked voice. "We're… we're practically paupers."

My next breaths were shallow and rapid: gasping. My heart raced. This was all too much to take in. Although I had a pretty good head on my shoulders, I had never expected all this. In the course of only a few weeks, me entire _life_ had changed! How was I to keep on going like this—my life always in a state of uncertainty?(!) We were _penniless?_ Once we reached the Caribbean, would we have bread to put on the table?(!) Would we even have a place to live!(?)

I unconsciously found tears coursing down my cheeks—I had always been very protective of my family; I wanted to see that they were safe. I knew that that was not my job: it was Father's, but, still, I could not help but think of every worst-case scenario.

"Our only hope is if one of you marries well… which, I am afraid, is virtually impossible," Father sighed. "I am so sorry… I tried so hard to pay it back… but I had fallen in too deeply. Your—your dowries… they… they are _gone_._"_

Stephanie hung her head, and Jenna rested a hand on her shoulder: I merely looked at Father in disbelief. "Father…!" I was so angry—I could not remember a time where I had ever felt so wronged.

"I know that it is terribly unfair, dear daughters… but the man left me no choice. I offered him everything that I had… until… I was forced to drain all my resources."

"You mean all _our_… resources!" I cried indignantly. "Papa, how could you not tell us!(?) How could you not tell us about all this—to have kept it _hidden_ from us for all this time?(!) This affects more than just _your_ life, you know! It affects _us!_ The family that you claim to love so much!"

"Ariana, I am… _so sorry_ for not bringing this to your attention sooner…."

"Sorry?(!) Is that all?(!) Papa, do you realize what you have done?(!) Papa… what you have done to Steph and Jenna's futures?(!)"

Jenna let out a soft gasp as the reality of it all gradually started to seep in. Without any dowry… no sensible young man would ever take interest in them. 'Twould be a gamble to fall in love with any of Ashworth's young ladies… a scandal to be connected to women of, now, such low social status, and income.

When Father saw the look of complete despair that had crossed my now-pale face, he shuddered a sigh. "I understand, Ariana. I understand your anger, you disgust—and I probably deserve it. You have every right to hate me…."

"I would never hate you, Father," I said in a soft tone as my eyes shifted to the floor. I could _never_ hate the man who had raised me.

"I am ever so glad of it, my dear—that brings me to the good news."

" 'Good news' ?" Jenna asked skeptically. Steph merely arched an eyebrow: the golden fringe of her dress glittering in the dancing rays of the slowly-rising sun.

"Ariana… the remedy to this situation may very well rest in your own hands."

I looked at Father strangely. "I beg your pardon?"

" 'Twas good fortune, indeed, that young Mr. Forbes proposed to you as soon as he did," Father said with a wry smile. "Not only is he a _fine_ young man, but, also, his family is very wealthy, and could very well save us from the hole I have dug us in. Best wait until after the conjugal festivities have subsided, though, to spring this upon your lover. After all, we should not wish to scare him away, now, would we?"

I gasped, appalled at my Father's implication. Instantly, I shot up from my seat at the table. "I am disgusted by your insinuations, _sir!_ How could you even _possibly_ think to sponge upon my fiancé's family to pay off your exorbitant debts! Alexander is a _good_ and _honorable_ man… and he loves me! He would marry me no matter what befell our family! It is insulting that you would taint his honor so." I was surprised at how passionately I was defending my prospective husband—in fact, my eyes might even have bulged, but that, also, could have had to do with the immense surprise that currently swamped me. "You, apparently, do not know him—or me—at all."

With those words I marched away, tears of anger fresh in my eyes—I could not believe what I had just heard. Rushing back to the room I shared with Lana, I found myself forcing Alexander's ring onto my finger just out of spite. I just wanted to cry, but I could not find the tears. All I had was hurt and anger—if they were currency, I could have bought the entire ship. What was the nature of the business Father had gotten caught up in, and why had it gone so _**wretchedly**_ wrong? And, who was the man holding all the cards—the man who was responsible for our family's downfall?

So many questions, yet I was certain that there was only one answer. I set my teeth angrily. Should I ever met the person responsible for all of this, it would take all of the strength in the world to refrain me from giving him a piece of my mind.

* * *

><p>The next fortnight passed with little to no contact with Father or my adoptive sisters. Occasionally, I would go to Jenna's chambers and converse with her, and she would update me with what was going on with their lives.<p>

**ARIANA'S SHIP LOG**

_**(Day 12)**_

The days aboard the _Sapphire Dreame_ come and go with little to nothing to interest me. What does not help is the fact that I scarcely speak with members of my family, except for in passing—but that is partly of my own choice. I still have not gotten over what Father told to me, and cannot get my mind off of the mystery that overhangs our family's ruin. _Who_ is the man responsible, and _why_ did Father get involved in business with him? _Furthermore_… what manner of business is it?(!)

While things have been quite dull on my end, I can hardly say the same for my roommate, Lana Simpson. She is the prized jewel of the ship: she is the officers' favorite passenger, pretending to be all dainty and charming with them—but I know the truth. More than once, I have caught her in here, making love to the captain, and, even more recently, having a fling with the second lieutenant! I wish to God I could erase the horrid images from my mind, and get another rooming partner. But, it's not as though I can report such happenings to the _Captain,_ right?(!)

Lana has been torturing me endlessly with her deliberately abrasive manner. She makes me feel so worthless and degraded, that I can hardly stand for it. I swear, if she does not cease to make such wretched comments against me, and the people I love, I shall not be responsible for my actions.

Ohh, well, I hear some tapping at the door. It must be Lana. _(Shivers)_ I will sign off now.

~ **Ariana Perrin**

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><p><em>More<em> days passed in silence, and I was growing weary of the endless monotony. When would this wretched voyage ever end?(!)

**ARIANA'S SHIP LOG**

_**(Day 20)**_

Thank God! The captain estimates that our journey to Port Royal will soon be concluded. 'In another ten days or so', he told me, 'we should be in safe waters once again'.

I felt a wisp of excitement as I looked out over the deck this morning, staring out into the grayish-blue horizon, partly clouded by the dense fog, much like the one we had on the day we began our voyage. I have not felt so exhilarated in a long time, and suddenly, I felt a wave of realization sweep over me. I was heading for the _Caribbean!_ There, I would find an adventure beyond my _wildest_ imagination…

~ **Ariana Perrin**

* * *

><p>We had been on board the <em>Sapphire Dreame<em> for over three weeks, now, and I was getting stir-crazy. My visits with Jenna had been becoming less and less frequent—scarcely even once a week. I had a feeling that that might partly have to do with my father, who must have been cross with me after my lecture about the debts our family had encumbered, and how I would _not_ entreat Alexander's family to pay them off. As I paced the deck, I wondered if this uneasiness would last throughout the rest of the voyage, and beyond—but it was then that I felt Jenna's warm, familiar hand on my shoulder.

"Jenna!" I exclaimed, enveloping her in a tight hug. "I am so glad to see you once again."

"We really need to talk—it has been far too long," Jenna urged, taking my hand and leading me to her cabin, which was shared with Stephanie, who was currently absent.

I sighed a sigh of relief—overwhelmingly glad that I had escaped Lana's clutches for at least a _little _while, even though it was not to last.

And, with that sigh, I collapsed back onto Jenna's bed, tightly closing my eyes in relaxation. "How do things fare on your side of things, dear friend?"

"Oh, much the same as usual—other than the absence of your charming self, of course," Jenna teased.

I let out a hearty laugh, then sighed. "I am glad that the voyage has proved to be tolerable, at least, for you," I exclaimed in a whisper.

There was a slight pause before either one of us spoke again.

"And how has it been with you?" she entreated with a sweet sincerity that I had grown to know and love over the years.

I sighed heavily. "It has been a struggle, I will tell you." I quickly averted my gaze from Jenna's earnest and searching gaze. "Oh, _Jenna! _This just won't do. The past three weeks have been completely unbearable!"

Jenna looked at me—she knew better than anyone when silence was better than words.

"She never ceases to chide me: to find some miniscule excuse to butcher what little self-respect I have! Jenna, she treats me like I am nothing. Nothing at all. But… that isn't even what bothers me the most." There was a large pause before I said anything further. "She—she frequently alludes to the **'**fact**'** that Alexander must be… a whore-loving pervert." My gaze lowered as I repeated the horrid words that had been spoken to me time and time again.

"You are growing to love him, aren't you?" Jenna asked, noting the somberness that had washed over my face, and I twisted the engagement ring on my left hand subconsciously. Apparently, I had forgotten to remove it the evening before… and Jenna had noticed.

"Yes," I dared to reply: biting my lower lip. I then lifted my gaze, speaking more confidently. "Yes, Jenna… I am." I paused yet again. "It is true what they say—that absence makes the heart grow fonder. My feelings about Alexander have always been conflicting—but perhaps I did not really know the true meaning of love until now—for, up until a few months ago, I was still, practically, a child in a woman's body: inexperienced in the ways of the world. I—I don't know if my feelings towards him have started to change because of all that has happened—but this I _do_ know. I feel that he is the only good left in my life: through all this strife, it is thoughts of _Alexander_ that have kept me sane. Thoughts of him have made me feel warm inside when all I want to do is grieve at all our misfortunes—and the cruel company which I am forced to keep."

"He is the illusion of perfection to you: the further and further we get from England, the closer and closer he comes into your heart," Jenna observed.

"Perhaps I should write to him," I murmured. "I _did_ promise."

Jenna smiled from ear to ear. "You really should!"

I sighed. "Oh, Jenna. I am afraid that I shall spill my entire heart out if I do write. I mean… I have been under such _intense_ stress lately. I still haven't talked to Father since he told us about…" I halted when I saw the pained expression on Jenna's pink face: "…_you know_._"_

Jenna merely nodded uncomfortably.

"I have kept all these feelings pent up for _so_ long… and, honestly, I have not even told you the worst of it. So many emotions are at war inside of me—and I hardly know how to calm the upset butterflies in my stomach."

"I shall pray for you," Jenna returned in a soft whisper—her voice lowering as she heard footsteps outside of the door. "That is probably Stephanie."

"Well, then, I shall not keep you any longer," I replied, forcing a smile. "Farewell, my dear," I whispered, thrusting the hood over my head.

"Farewell, Ariana," Jenna sighed heavily as I ducked out of the door and raced back toward my cabin: the cold drops of heavy rain cascading down my clothes and dripping off my face as I ran, and hastily opened the door, panting for air.

— "Oh, _there_ you are," Lana's haughty voice announced, snapping me back into reality. I turned to look at her, struggling to keep back the heat in my face; I knew that if she saw how distressed I currently was, after my conversation with Jenna, it would only give her more room to tease me. Lana looked at me, throwing up her hand carelessly as her other arm rested over her forehead. "Help me up, servant girl."

That was it. _That_ was the breaking point.

"Shut up, you insolent, aristocratic brat!" I yelled, making Lana's blue eyes bulge with surprise.

A few moments passed, and she tsked. "Tsk, tsk, tsk! You've got quite a temper on you, haven't you, servant girl?" When she saw the offended look on my face, she arched a pleased brow, then nodded toward the gold-and-diamond engagement band that adorned my finger. "I'll wager that ring is nothing more than a stolen trinket from a rapscallion lover!"

"How dare you!" I exclaimed, tears coursing down my cheeks. "How can you treat me so cruelly?(!) Surely, there must be one bone in your body that appreciates and respects fellow human beings!"

"Of course there is," Lana replied, settling back onto her pillows smugly. "But, the fact is, at this moment, I am looking at a piece of worthless colored garbage masquerading herself as important… and on _my level_. The point of fact is—_dear_—that you are nothing, and will always be so. So, please, help me up."

"I will never help you!" I cried, finally giving in: after all the stress and all the heartache, I finally caved in—and in front of my worst enemy. I let out a series of shaky sobs as I collapsed on my cot, and indulged my sobs. Lana smirked. She had me right she wanted me—and her words had struck me like a dagger to the heart.

Though my eyes were closed taut, I could hear Lana silently slipping out of her cot, and walking past mine without a word, unkind or otherwise.

It was just like her to add to the my pain when my entire world came crashing down.

Interrupting my thoughts was a soft, insistent rumble, which quickly turned into a whizzing hum. My ears perked up, wondering what the sound could be…

Then, it happened.

_**BOOM!**_

The wall on Lana's side of the room blew wide open: shards of wood shooting through the air in every direction. Instinctively, I jumped for Lana, screeching: "LOOK OUT!" as I tackled her to the ground just in time to dodge the cannonball that had shot its way through, and out the other side.

"_Pirates! We're under attack!"_ came the desperate, high-pitched scream of a lieutenant as he raced for the ship's bell, and began to ring it frantically: only to die away as the officer slumped to the ground, run through heartlessly.

My eyes bulged. The loud thudding of approaching footsteps—ferocious ones—had me standing in stark fear: my heart in my throat as Lana and I watched in horror, as the doorknob to our cabin started to twist open before our very eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>Ah-ha! Cliffie! Well, I hope not to keep you hanging for long. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! It is the longest one so far!<br>****Also, sorry if this period on the ship seems shortened a lot: I am trying to get to the main piece of the story without cutting too much of this part short. Thus, the ship's log that shows the passage of time.**

**Please **R&R**! Thanks!**


	11. Of Powers Unknown

**AN./** Another major plot bunny is soon to be revealed! Thanks to all of you readers and reviewers! I am so glad that you are still enjoying this story! Sorry that this chapter is so short… Chapter 12 will be up in a bit!

OK! So I am SHAKING with excitement! I have been waiting to get to this chapter forever. I love it! Please let me know what you think!

For those who have NOT voted for my new story, last call! I need only two more votes!

Please be polite, and **R&R**! Thanks! Enjoy **:D**

~ Silvertongued Dreams

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not own PotC, but a girl can dream, and dream, I must!

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Eleven<span>: Of Powers Unknown**

"Pirates! Oh, good God!" Lana shrieked: raising her hands over her head of copper-red hair as she rose unsteadily to her feet: her eyes still on the door.

"Shh! Be quiet: they are coming!" I exclaimed in a harsh and desperate whisper.

"Ariana… you are bleeding," Lana pointed out, gesturing to my forehead.

My jaw hung agape as I took in the fact that she had just called me, for the first time, by my Christian name… but my surprise was soon replaced with alarm as I realized that she was right. I quickly rushed over to the broken mirror on the floor, picking up a shard of glass and quickly examined the wound. Sure enough, a shard of wood had grazed me—cutting a jagged lightning-shaped wound on the left side of my forehead. I cringed as I reached a finger up to touch the blood: I had never seen so much of it before in my entire life.

"They're coming in!" Lana screeched in horror as the bar across the door started to split in twain. "What should we do?(!)"

I scoffed sarcastically: turning her words against her. "_You're_ the human being. You tell me!"

Lana huffed, and let out an exasperated scream. Rushing towards her dresser, she overturned things, frantically searching for something that could be used as a weapon. A few seconds later, she re-emerged, a knife in hand. I looked at her skeptically. "Well… at least that's better than nothing!" I exclaimed nervously, and, with one last kick on the other end of the door, the barrier between us and the pirates came crashing down.

Lana let out an unearthly scream, and I soon joined her. Before us stood to pirates: one short and stout one, the other, tall and skinny. Neither one of them looked all that terrifying, but, nonetheless, Lana bared herself.

"RUN! Ariana, RUN! Get help!"

I panted desperately as the pirates lunged for her, and when the thin one moved for me, I dropped to the floor and rolled, which granted me an opportunity to rip the dagger off of the hilt at the pirate's boot.

"No, no! Put me down!" Lana shrieked as the short pirate—one going by the name of Pintel—lifted her over his shoulders and carried her out the door, and up the stairs to the deck.

When I made to chase after them, the taller pirate—who I later learned to be named Ragetti—blocked my path, and chuckled almost childishly. "Where d'ya think _you're_ goin', poppet?" he taunted, grinning so much as a reply, I let out a cry as I lunged forward with the knife, to which he parried with his quickly drawn, rusty, curved saber. I gasped, beads of sweat trickling down my bleeding forehead as I successfully blocked each attack from the suntanned pirate. I even managed to push him aside long enough to storm to the deck."_Ach!_ Me eye!" he exclaimed, feeling the side of his head as his wooden eye fell out onto the floor of Lana and my cabin, rolling under my cot and temporarily… out of sight?

Ah, well, it didn't matter to me—it afforded me a chance to escape. Panting, I hiked up my skirts past my ankles, and rushed up the rickety stairs only just to see Lana's head of copper-red hair flash out of sight. I groaned inwardly.

I had to pay very special attention to all those around me. The deck was stained crimson with blood. But, strangely, it seemed, that all the bodies that lay strewn across the deck were those of the Royal Navy and British Marines. _Why is that?_ I wondered, but not before I realized that I was face to face with someone I _instantly_ knew would be trouble.

Tall and dark, he stood, arms crossed, looking down at me with almost glimmering, yellowed-blue eyes as his ginger beard moved slightly in the wind. A white-headed capuchin monkey quickly scrambled up his shoulders, screeching excitedly.

Gaze fixed intently, the staunch figure stepped forward suspensefully: his elegant but worn black boots thudding rhythmically against the staircase. The entire battle froze, and many familiar faces were scattered throughout the crowd: each notable person being held back by at _least_ two pirates.

Black sails billowed in the breeze eerily, and I shivered slightly. The formidable figure before me smirked, then barked: "Masters Pintel and Ragetti! The prisoner, if ye would."

Upon those words, Ragetti instantly burst up from my cabin, and joined Pintel: dragging Lana up the steps to what I supposed to be their 'captain'.

"Right, here she is, Captain Barbossa," Pintel murmured under his breath.

"Why, you miserable little snake!" Lana writhed: her magenta-purple dress clinging tightly to her porcelain skin.

My brows furrowed in confusion—_Lana?(!)_ Was she _really_ the person these wretched pirates were looking for?(!) She did not strike me as the type to associate with pirates _at all_. Captain Barbossa's long, rough black fingernails against Lana's pasty-white skin: forcing her to meet his fiery gaze.

"Nay! It is not her. Ye have brought me the wrong girl!"

"How can ye be so sure?" Ragetti asked. "She is the proper age!"

"The proper age for _what?"_ I asked defiantly: placing my hands on my hips.

Almost instantly, Barbossa's gaze shot towards me, and I found myself stepping back at his close proximity. Lana's gaze followed him, and she looked at me in equal surprise as I had at her only moments before. I stood, undaunted, but my heart pounded agitatedly in my chest. At the corner of my eye, I saw Father, fear washing over his face as the pirate captain advanced towards me, extending a hand for my face. He seemed to take a very deep interest in my newly-acquired scar, and smirked satisfactorily at himself. But, rather than uttering word, he ran his calloused hand over my jaw line, causing my Father to shake, and break down into a pleading sob. "Please, no! She is my… my precious daughter…!"

"Is it her?" Pintel asked with interest.

"Ahhh… those eyes… I don't… know…."

"If she was the one, she would prove it to us," Ragetti said in a mumble: his one eye focused _straight_ on me as he popped his wooden eye back into his socket. I flinched a little at the disgusting sight.

"Well, when ye put it _that_ way, I suppose there only be _one_ way to find out, right, lads?" Barbossa chuckled, and I forced a laugh just to break the tenseness I felt in the air. Father swallowed a lump in his throat. What was he going to do with me?

"I have no idea what you are all on about, but I can assure you, if I had the answer to what you are searching for, I would most readily share it!"

Barbossa chuckled, and the rest of the pirates—all eyes on me—laughed heartily. I swallowed the large lump in my throat.

"To be sure, ye would, Missy, had ye any sense about ye," Barbossa returned with a weak, but _clever_ smile.

My muscles relaxed a bit when he started to turn away, but, within moments, I realized just how big a mistake I had made.

In one fluid movement, Captain Barbossa had withdrawn his flintlock pistol, and prepared to fire. "Prove it to us, or the man dies!" I watched, _horrified,_ as the pirate aimed the gun straight at my father's face, and slowly drew back the golden trigger.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed, instinctively leaping in front of the man who had raised me.

"Ariana! _**Don't**__!"_ Jenna shrieked, gripping onto Steph tightly.

I felt an unnatural, rapid surge of adrenaline pulsing through my veins as I watched the bullet soar through the air in slow-motion. My scar, in particular, seemed to pound out of proportion: I thought that my head was going to explode. But that did not stop me, in my resolve to protect my father, and I remained focused.

Then, _all of a sudden,_ I felt a strange jolt of energy mixed with pain—and a blinding white light flashed from my lightning-shaped scar, making the pirates fall back and shriek in pain. Jutting my hands forward, I felt a wall of firm air emit from my hands, stilling the bullet before ricocheting it back towards the pirate captain, and he ducked to avoid getting flashed crazily all around the ship, and thunder boomed, as though the gods above were enraged.

"You will _not_ harm my family!" I screamed: and, even through the light, my gaze met fiercely with Barbossa's.

Lana's blue eyes bulged in amazement, and she panted from the shock of all that was occurring.

Then, I felt all my strength being drained from me, and I collapsed to the floor, blacking out in a dead faint.

"Aye… we found her, all right," Barbossa replied with a sly smirk as he blew the smoke from the muzzle of his pistol and stared down at my limp form. "Gents, take her aboard the _Pearl!"_

Father stood, wide-eyed, as I was dragged away by pirates Pintel and Ragetti, but he said nothing. There was only one thought running through his mind. _What had just happened?_

* * *

><p><strong>Ha-ha! Got you again! Another cliffie! And this time, it is with PIRATES!<strong>

**So, do you want to find out what all that commotion with Ariana was about? Stay tuned for chapter 13! (The next chapter is about Norrington). Read more to find out!**

**Please **R&R**! I am **_**very**_** anxious to know what you all thought!**


	12. Facing Phillip

**AN./ **For those of you who have found Norrington's storyline 'dull', so far, I apologize. I have not written a Norrington fan fiction in a looooooong time, so bear with me! The last fic I wrote relied on the script and this is all just coming from my head. Also, don't worry, you will find out more about Ariana in the _next_ chapter! I promise, and again, sorry for the wait! Chapter 13 will be up in a week or so, give or take a few days.

Special thanks to **Yarah** and **E.R. Dernhelm **for their positive and uplifting reviews for the previous chapter. Glad _you_ enjoyed it, loves!

Enjoy! Oh, and please **R&R**!

With love,  
>~ Silvertongued Dreams<p>

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Twelve<span>: Facing Phillip**

On this particular morning, James Norrington had decided to take his lusty chestnut stallion, _Rochester,_ for a brisk ride along the beach at the break of dawn. Willingly, the fine horse conveyed him to Fort Charles where, panting and sweating, the handsome officer dismounted, and proceeded to put his uniform overcoat back on.

He knew that he had quite a bit of work to accomplish—at least the paperwork had been dealt with, however. He still needed to retrieve the documents from the governor, but that would be a task for later in the morning….

James had nearly reached the door to Fort when he saw the small light of a candle from the window of his new office. Norrington crinkled his eyebrows. He was always the first one at the Fort. _Who _was at the Fort, and _how_ had the person gotten into his office?(!)

Norrington proceeded with caution, and hunched a bit as he tiptoed cautiously to the door. He couldn't hear anything on the inside, but that did not stop him from worrying. That candle was not lit when he had left the night before, after he had come back from visiting the governor. Therefore, someone had intruded upon his privacy… and he needed to find out _who_.

With that thought in mind, he cautiously twisted open the door to his office, and his jade green eyes surveyed the room. "Is anyone here? Hello…?"

James's voice trailed off, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a familiar figure lurking in the shadows. "Well, there you are, James. I was expecting you."

James turned sharply. "Lieutenant Gillette!"

"Ah, yes. It seems that my presence is a surprise to you," Gillette returned, emerging from the shadow with a scowl on his face. "_We need to talk."_

"Of course, Phillip, but—"

"I do not have the time or the tolerance to stand this," Gillette spat. "We _need_… to talk."

"Very well, then," James returned, slightly flustered, and he went to light another candle. When he was done, he looked at Phillip once again. "I am ready to listen. Now, pray, tell me, what presses upon your mind so urgently."

"Perhaps that question would better be asked to my _cousin,_ _**Captain**_ Norrington," Gillette said, approaching the upstanding officer with a flicker of anger in his eyes.

"Miss Westfall? My God, has something happened to her?" James asked in alarm. "I told her that she should not go back to the Fort alone…."

"Aye, but even if you had gone back with her, you still could not have prevented the heartache she had when she returned," Gillette spoke through gritted teeth: unexpectedly gripping his longtime friend by the cravat and shoving him against the wall. "You broke her heart, James!" he exclaimed.

A cold dagger of shock shot through James. Elanor was in love with him? How could this be? How could he not have noticed?

"I have a great deal of respect for you, Captain," Gillette breathed, loosening his grip slightly: "but I have let this get too far out of my control. Elanor—she needs more than a friendship. If you are not ready or willing to give that to her… than I would kindly ask you to take a step back."

This was all too much for poor James to take in. Never on his life would he have expected that Elanor had set her cap for him. Never on his life did it even enter his mind that when she came to _him_ for advice, that it was because she wanted his approval more than anyone else's. Always, he had thought of himself as an elder brother figure—he had never viewed Elanor as more than a gentle flower that needed to be protected and nurtured, and kept away from the harming influences of the debauched world.

… And he had always assumed that she felt the same way. But now, face to face with his old friend, it was obvious that such had _not_ been the case.

Yet, even then, only one thing came to his head to say. "Elanor's—Elanor's in _love_ with me?"

Gillette scoffed, and backed away. "Yes, she is. And, by God, I wish I had known sooner. I could have saved her from all this heartache."

"I really wish that I had known," Norrington swallowed. "I never would wish to hurt her."

Gillette backed away into the shadows, and opened the back door slightly. "I am afraid that you are too late to save her that pain, James," he said in a soft tone, letting out a small sigh before twisting the door knob and exiting the Fort. "Much too late."

As Phillip disappeared, James let out an exasperated sigh. _What a morning_.

* * *

><p><strong>Again, sorry for the shortness of this chapter, but the chapters will be significantly shorter for a little while - with the exception of the next chapter. <span>Chapter 13<span> will be up soon! **

**Anyway… the poll on my profile has been closed: thanks for your participation, guys!**


	13. The Sword of Cortés

**AN./ **Hi lovelies! It's me again! Am I right in thinking that some of you might have been confused by Ariana's 'having powers'? Well, let me assure you, here and now, that what I have planned for her isn't 'Mary-Sue-ish': everything is in here for a purpose, and this is merely a _little_ puzzle piece that will make everything clear later on. _**All is revealed in this chapter**__. _Thank you! Enjoy.

THANKS TO THE LOVELY YARAH FOR BEING THE 100th reviewer! YAY! I never thought this story would make it this far, so thanks again, y'all. Your reviews mean _a lot_ to me! Speaking of which... I wrote a new story! It is a VERY short Norribeth One-shot, called 'Deeper Than You Know'. If you have a chance, please take the time to check it out and leave a review! Thanks!

The other day, _I realized that I'm no longer obsessed with PotC._ It's true, & I shocked myself. I think it had primarily to do with Jack D. & PotC 4, actually. Don't get me wrong, I still love the characters like family, & _PotC_ are still my fav. movies, but, the only difference is, it's not all I talk about anymore. Which is a good thing.

On an entirely _different_ note, I am _one happy woman_. My Norrie doll came in this wk. & Jack D. made the cover of **TV Guide**! I didn't approve of _SMASH,_ but the cover is a treat **:o)**

This chapter contains references to the **_'__Young Jack Sparrow: The Sword of Cortés_****_'_** book.

**EDIT: **Many thanks, silmelinde, for noticing the inconsistency in this chapter! It has now been ammended. :D

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Thirteen<span>: The Sword of Cortés**

When I awoke, I had a pounding headache, and groaned. The gentle swaying beneath me informed me that I was most definitely on a ship, and I rose from my hammock, a hand on my head as my bare feet met with the cold floor below. I looked around anxiously. Everything was _black_. This was not the room that I shared with Lana aboard the _Sapphire Dreame_. Then, it all hit me. The pirates, the temporary alliance with Lana, and that bizarre… _storm_… and how it had affected me.

The floor of the ship creaked painfully with each step I took. All was quiet—the ship seemed to be abandoned. Maybe I could escape without anyone noticing….

But those thoughts were banished from my mind almost instantly, as I heard the loud and dramatic footsteps of Captain Barbossa approaching the door. The doorknob twisted suspensefully, and, out of instinct, I grabbed the nearest thing that could be used as a weapon—which, in this case, was a sturdy Oriental vase.

A few seconds later, my face met with the laughing gaze of Captain Barbossa, and he roared with laughter. "Ah, lass… I see that yer awake."

I looked at him skeptically, furrowing my brows, but did not loosen my grip on my makeshift weapon.

"D'not worry, my dear… I've no intention o' harmin' ye." In a rather gentlemanly fashion, he gestured towards a seat at the large banqueting table in the center of the room. "Please t' take a seat, Ariana Perrin de _Cortés."_

I raised a brow, but did not dare contradict the pirate—silently, I took a seat, and my body stiffened when I felt the pirate captain's tepid breath against my nape.

"By the powers, lass! Dare ye even guess what trouble I've had trying to locate ye?"

"I am certain that I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about," I returned, swallowing hard. I was being completely honest, though I knew that he probably wouldn't believe me.

"I know ye don't… _Missy,"_ he teased tauntingly. "And that be exactly why ye are here."

"Where is my family?(!)" I demanded.

"Oh, don't worry, they be safe in the brig," he spouted off with a nonchalant, casual wave of his hand.

"Then I _demand_—_"_

"Careful what ye wish for, and, even more so, what ye 'demand' from a pirate." He snorted through his nose. "Just a friendly warnin'."

I settled back into my chair. "Fine, then… _Captain_. Pray, then, tell me why I am here, if I am not meant to be some mean sort of mean sport for you and your rapscallion crew?"

"Ye be far too valuable to the likes of us, so we'd not _dare_ to abuse our power over ye, lest ye… not grace us with yer favor in return."

"What favor would that be?" I practically spat.

For a moment, I was frightened, as Barbossa leveled his gaze with me. "Ye really don't know _anythin'_… do ye?"

I nodded insistently.

Barbossa sighed heavily—the light feather in his stout and elegant peacock hat flurrying only momentarily as he took the regal seat across from me, and leaned across the table.

"Been ten years, it has, that I have been lookin' for the lass with the blood of Hernán Cortés runnin' through 'er veins. The lass… who would be the next to wield the magnificent Sword."

I furrowed my brows once again. "_What?_ Captain… you are not making any sense," I commented, twisting and biting my lower lip in confusion.

"Yer mother did not know this, but she was the great, great, great granddaughter of the bloodthirsty conquistador, Hernan Cortés. She did not know this, aye… until the day that she was killed for it.

"Yer father and mother were about as ignorant of the Sword as any other person who had not dug into Ancient Spanish Mythology. Nonetheless, ignorance does not trump bloodline. The Sword was last seen in the hands of a former 'captain' of mine—Jack Sparrow—in his teenage years. After conquering the resurrected conquistador, he held brief ownership of the Sword, but did not have the power to properly wield it. Namely, because he was not a descendant of Cortés. Thus, finding no use in the Sword's powers, he relayed It to the mystic Tia Dalma… and It stayed with her up until about a decade ago. 'The Sword must find Its rightful owner again,' she told me. 'Only den can ye break the curse that holds ye in the confines between life and death.' At the time, of course, I ignored her words… but one must never doubt the word of an elite voodoo priestess."

I raised my eyebrows, still saying nothing. I eyed the ham in the center of the table hungrily, and with a relatively friendly gesture, Barbossa nodded to me, and I reached for the meat hungrily.

He seemed to take great delight in each bite I took, and let out an amazed scoff.

"Please, do continue with your interesting story. I was rather enjoying it," I returned: wearing a laughing smile. Of course this tale couldn't be true! Even with my spectacular writer's imagination, I knew that there was only so far one could stretch the truth….

"It is not a story, it is fact, ye insolent girl!" Barbossa nearly exploded: shooting up from his chair. Startled, I reclined a bit too far in my chair, and nearly fell _backward_. But Barbossa merely leered at me—nothing more.

"Very well," I swallowed slowly. "I am sorry to have offended you. Nevertheless, I would appreciate if you would continue. I am very interested."

"As well ye _should_ be, young Miss Perrin," Barbossa grinned: twisting a strand of his ginger beard as he prepared to continue on with his tale. "It is yer heritage, after all.

"—Anyway, where was I?"

"Tia Dalma. The Sword?" I prodded.

"Oh, aye, that be right." He cleared his throat. "—Well, that Sword be far more significant than ye could ever have imagined, young Missy. It is with that very magical Sword that the evil Hernán Cortés slaughtered the Aztecs in a single night. The gods were infuriated—_enraged_—at his greed, so when the remaining members of the uncultured tribe offered up a chest of Aztec gold medallions as blood money to stem the slaughter he wreaked upon them, the gods placed upon it… a _terrible _curse. Cortés, in his greed, took the chest without a second thought… only later to discover that when he ate, food did not satisfy… whenever he laid down to rest, no relief came to his bloodshot eyes… and not even the most sensuous company in the world could give him satisfaction. 'Twas from then on that anyone who dared remove but a _single_ piece from the chest was cursed to roam the world, without depth or feeling, for eternity!"

"How wretched," I returned, trying to sound as though I believed him. "Is there any way to undo the curse? And what of the Sword? What happened to _It?"_

Barbossa let out a soft chuckle. "Aye. There be a way to undo the curse. 'Tis said that if the medallion be returned to the chest on Isla de Muerta, but one drop of blood upon it will satisfy the ire of the Heathen gods."

"Seems simple enough," I shrugged. "Though, painful."

"Ye might think so, but all 882 identical pieces have been scattered across all corners of the globe! I, meself, am a victim of the curse." I eyed him curiously. Moonlight streamed in through a crack in the ceiling, and he backed up. I screeched in horror as the eerie light seeped through his broad overcoat, exposing a skeletal figure. "We are not among the livin', so we cannot die, but _neither_ are we dead!"

"Oh, good God, step out of the light, please!" I exclaimed, shielding my eyes in disgust.

Barbossa did as I asked, but said nothing.

"While I am truly… floured this revelation… what does the Sword have to do with all this… and what happened to me… earlier? I acted and maneuvered like a completely different person! The Ariana _I _know would never have been able to fight off her attackers. While I would have craved the bravery I showed earlier, if I had been in my normal state of mind, I would have just hidden under the bed and prayed to God that the pirates did not find me." I paused for a hasty breath, then added quickly: knowing that I sounded absolutely superstitious and _ridiculous: _"It was as if I was an entirely different person."

Barbossa laughed softly. "Ah, those be such questions, m'dear. _Such_ good questions." He circumvented me with a ravenous eye, but, thanks be to God, he kept his hands to himself, while my skin crawled uncomfortably. "I must concur that all the... _amazing reflexes _you seem to have spontaneously sprouted earlier are _not_ skills that you possess. You strike me as the inquisitive, silent, and peaceful type. And, as absurd as it sounds, you have—_involuntarily_—hit upon the truth of the matter."

I furrowed my brows inconfusion. _What?_

But the mysterious pirate captain gave me no verbal response. Instead, he took a few thudding steps away from me, and gestured toward the door, with a look that told me that I had better pay attention: that all of my serious questions were about to be answered. As I looked at him, he nodded to a rack hanging just above the door. "There be the Sword. Now, take it in yer hand, and tell me what ye feel."

I nodded sheepishly, willing to obey, but frightened after what I had just seen of him. I had to stand on my tiptoes to even reach the broad hilt, and when I pried the Sword down from the rack, it fell instantly to the ground with a drag—the Thing was so bloody heavy!

Barbossa chuckled. "It'll take some gettin' used to, lass. Take it with both hands."

Once I followed his instructions, I once again had that strange, mystical feeling pulsing through my body. Once again, the lightning scar on the left side of my forehead, above my eyebrow, started to grow faintly white. I looked at Barbossa questioningly. The energy transferred from my scar and traveled all the way down my arm, to the Sword, which started to sizzle with electricity.

"What is the meaning of all this?" I cried.

"What happened to ye yesterday was not merely from superhuman power generated by _you_. The scar ye bear acts as a trigger, of sorts. When I fired my flintlock at yer father, yer protective instincts—which were amplified through your unique markin'—proved strong enough to temporarily access the magical properties of the Sword, without ye actually touchin' it—and there be a _reason_ for that. Hernán Cortés might be dead to _this_ world, but he still thrives in the afterlife. He is using _you_… to control the Sword… and bring peace to those he has wronged." Barbossa quirked a wry smile at me. "Though I highly doubt it is because Cortés has had a sudden change of heart after nearly 200 years on the other side." Yet, then, he shrugged, after considering what he had just said. "I guess we'll never know."

Barbossa's last words went through me, passing by like a far-off wave. I was far too enamored with the weapon I now held to concentrate much on anything else. "Wow," I muttered in awe as I studied the Sword in my hand. "This is truly amazing."

"It be a gift and a curse, lassie… bear that always in mind. Only ye hold the key to freeing us all. For, with one drop of blood over the accursed Aztec chest, ye release us forever of the curse that yer ancestor doomed us with, in our ignorance."

I was so excited by this new revelation—a magic Weapon? Who would have expected such an extraordinary thing to happen to a woman like me….

"Miss Perrin?" Barbossa questioned, penetrating the silence.

I gasped lightly, and swiveled around to meet his gaze. "Yes?"

"Yer family was murdered by the descendents of the Aztecs, in an attempt to be rid of _you,"_ he explained in an almost silent tone. "Fortunately for ye, just as the renegades were about to break down the door, yer mother chanced to hide ye in a shelter underneath the floorboards. Goes to show that prophecy always comes to fruition… no matter how deadly the cost in the long run."

With those last words, the pirate captain started to walk away. "Meet me on deck in a quarter of an hour, Miss Perrin. There be somethin' I need t' show ye."

"As you wish," I mumbled in reply, wondering what else the pirate captain could _possibly_ have to share with me.

When I arrived up on deck, I gasped with excitement. There stood my father, and sisters, completely unharmed, and waiting for me. Also, there was Lana, who had managed to survive the sinking of the _Sapphire Dreame_… much to my dismay.

"Father!" I shrieked, rushing into his arms and banishing from memory, for the moment, all the bad things he had done to me.

"My dearest girl," Father sniffled, enfolding me into his comforting embrace.

"Father, oh, Father, how worried I have been!" I exclaimed, almost giving in to my shuddering sobs of relief.

It was then, however, that the tables had been turned on me _again_. The two pirates, Pintel and Ragetti, dragged me away from my family as Barbossa cocked his pistol, and gestured at my Father with it.

"Off ye go," he taunted, waving the pistol around carelessly.

"No! Don't do this, Captain Barbossa!" I pleaded.

"I only have need of _ye,_ so what use is there in keeping those useless to me aboard the _Black Pearl_—they'd only prove t' be more _mouths_ to feed," he groaned, eyeing Jenna in disgust. "Gents! What'll it be?(!)"

"Walk the plank!"

"Walk the plank!"

"Walk the plank!"

"Walk the plank!" all the pirates cheered menacingly.

"You treacherous snake! Let go of them at once—you shall have no help from _me!"_ I cried.

"Time's come to admit that it is _I_ that hold the cards now, Missy—ye best start gettin' use to it," Barbossa grinned evilly.

With those words, the burly black man, Bo'sun, extended the plank, and shoved Jenna towards it. She yelped in pain.

"HANDS OFF HER AT ONCE!" I bellowed angrily. "You are making a terrible mistake!"

Ignoring my words, Barbossa pushed me aside, and nodded to the Bo'sun to shake the plank, as Jenna had been frozen still, and had not walked. "Next!" he bellowed as Jenna's petrified shriek died into the crash of the ocean waves below.

Next up was my Father, who looked at him pleadingly.

"_Father,"_ I mouthed in a soft whisper, trying to reassure him that everything was going to be all right—even though, truthfully, I was more than doubtful that such would be the case, myself.

"Move off, blueblood!" the crew jeered, and Father swallowed hard. As they waited for him to move toward the plank, the chests containing our belongings were thrust unceremoniously into the ocean.

I cringed slightly. My things… _our_ things… and my family… were being ripped away from me, all at once….

Then, all of a sudden, things started to become a blur. I saw Father walk the plank, and then… I think I saw Steph being shoved off as well. _Then, I realized that I could take _no more _of this_….

I gripped tightly onto the hilt of my newly acquired Sword—teeth clenched in anger. These pirates should not have control over my family and me!

Smiling cleverly, I drew my Sword… which, in the future, I had no plan of using unless in dire need.

Lifting it, with both hands, high in the air, I put the electrical blade up to Barbossa's Adam's apple. "You've hurt my family, and you will, by no means, get help from _me! _Let me off this vessel at once, that I may join them, whatever fate may hold in store!_"_ My voice rang out clear in the Caribbean breeze, somehow, silencing everybody.

"Well, Miss Perrin, your wish is my command," Barbossa said, bowing with excellent flourish as he removed his ostrich-plume hat. "Send my regards to Davy Jones."

I stepped onto the plank. "I most certainly shall, Captain Barbossa."

_"I'll come back for ye, Miss Perrin... ye can count on that,"_ he cursed under his breath.

I looked back bravely, my curled hair waving in the breeze as I took a step forward. I smiled serenely, looking quite calm as I stepped off the plank to enter the next realm… but suddenly, I felt something stop me. I reached a hand up to my head, for an unstoppable pulsating feeling rushed through, all to the same spot—my lightning-shaped scar.

What was happening to me?

A tiny glow emanated from my scar, and I spread out my arms like eagle's wings, dropping, with an elegant swan-dive, into the crushing depths… only, before I landed, the sea opened up before me, and all the water under the _Pearl_ began to boil violently.

"She's rocking the ship! Prepare to flee!" Barbossa shouted.

My smile still shined as bright as the early morning sun, and my eyes were closed; I was engulfed in the feeling of traveling through time and space. And then—then, I felt a large hand wrap protectively around my entire body… only when I looked, I found that I was being carried by a wave.

I lay back, passing my very confused, still-swimming family, who just washed up on shore.

"_Thank you,"_ I breathed softly, closing my eyes one more time as I was laid gently in the soft, beige sand… soon to fall fast asleep, completely spent.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Meanwhile….<strong>_

"_Tea?"_ Elanor asked daintily of Captain Norrington, as she delicately extended the exquisite magenta-and-white china tea kettle belonging to the Gillette residence.

"No, no, thank you, Miss Westfall," James returned somberly: his chin rested in his hand. He could not seem to get his conversation with Phillip off of his mind—especially since Gillette had been eyeing him silently _all afternoon_. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Fortunately for the trio, though, Lieutenant Groves was also present. One must only suppose that Fate had its reasons… as I would soon find out.

Lieutenant Groves, who currently sat on the small sofa, wedged in-between Gillette and Elanor, turned to look at the fair creature and smiled weakly. "_I_ should like some, thank you very much."

"You are welcome, Lieutenant Groves," Elanor returned with a twinkle in her eyes as she poured the hot beverage for the lieutenant: completely forgetting James for a moment.

"You are too kind," Groves smiled warmly.

Both Gillette and James were growing increasingly uncomfortable. At least Elanor seemed happy with Groves, though. But Norrington knew that he needed to talk to her eventually.

Gillette seemed to read James's thoughts, and nodded slowly, scratching his chin. "Theodore, did I happen to mention the new rifle I ordered from London?"

"No, I do not believe so," Groves replied with interest. "Was it in the latest catalog?"

" 'Catalog', of sorts, yes," Phillip replied with his customarily pleasant smile. "Would you like to have a look? It is very grand—the latest make and model, with all the gold filigree trimmings."

"Is it the catalog, or the actual weapon?" Groves asked with a slightly bemused smile.

"The catalog, currently—but that won't last for long," Gillette replied with a smile, rising from his seat. Groves, looking back at Elanor hesitantly, soon followed suit.

This left James sitting, one leg over the other, across from Elanor, who tried her hardest not to meet his gaze.

"_Elanor,"_ his velvet voice suddenly broke the silence.

Her heart practically leapt into her throat. "Yes?" she was quick to reply—the fact that he had called her by her first name had not escaped her notice.

"You—you do know that you can tell me anything," Norrington practically stammered: he was so nervous. He had hoped that he might not have to broach the situation, but the ardent look in Elanor's eyes showed that he _needed_ to have this conversation. He dreaded it—he dreading saying the wrong words and only adding to her pain, but he knew that, even if he just gave it his best effort, she would appreciate his sincerity in the end.

"Of course, James," she returned with an obviously forced smile. She scarcely lifted her gaze to meet his.

"I hope you need no reassurance of how ardently I admire and care for you," James broke off sincerely—it was then that she dared to look and him, and his stomach fluttered in relief. "Elanor… I… apologize if anything I have said has offended or… _hurt_ you."

" 'Hurt' me? Why, James," she returned with a small smile, rising from her seat—to which he soon followed her example: "James, rest assured, if I have felt hurt at all since we last saw each other, it is all on my end. I—merely failed to understand something that I should have understood _long_ ago. Will you forgive me?"

James scoffed, collecting her hand in his and pressing his warm lips to her hand. "But of course, my dear friend."

Just then, Gillette stumbled into the parlor—it was apparent that he had been waiting behind the door all this time, and Norrington rolled his eyes when Elanor's head was turned.

Gillette, realizing that he had been found out, quickly cleared his throat, straightened himself, and smoothed out his uniform. "Dratted good specimen of a rifle, though, eh, Theodore?"

There was no response. About fifteen seconds later, Groves returned to the parlor, wearing a bemused expression on his face. "Phillip? I don't understand—you never showed."

Elanor flicked out her fan, placing it before her face as she stifled a giggle. However, her laughing eyes, the color of a stormy Caribbean morning, still danced merrily, and betrayed her.

"Well, now that we are all here, why don't we go for a walk along the beach?" She drew back the lacy curtain, and stared out at the rolling waves. "It is a _beautiful_ day. It would be a shame to waste it!"

"I concur!" Gillette exclaimed, momentarily winding an arm about his cousin's waist. "James?"

"As long as everyone else is desirous of an outing, I would be obliged to join you all," James returned pleasantly.

"All right then, 'tis settled!" Phillip laughed heartily: smacking his fist hard against his other hand. "Come along, Theodore!" he barked as he headed out the door: waving a hand at him, even though his back was faced towards him.

Groves looked at Norrington, then shrugged, and offered his arm to Miss Westfall. When they started out the door, but noticed that Norrington had not joined them, Theodore Groves arched his head back. "Aren't you coming, sir?"

As if being broken from a daze, Norrington cleared his throat, and stood upright: hands behind his back. "But of course. Just let me fetch my sword, and we will be on our way."

* * *

><p>It was a <em>beautiful<em> afternoon. Blue skies and sapphire waters looking quite flawless as the sun scorched down upon them. Elanor waved her fan repeatedly in front of her face in an attempt to ward off some of the sun's rays that burned against her pale and delicate skin. None of the company could judge how far they had walked, but if it had been a mile, it most certainly felt like _three_.

"Lieutenant Groves, I fear that this sun is affecting me most frightfully. Pray, do you mind escorting me to that nearby palm tree? A bit of shade might set me aright."

Groves smiled at her weakly, "But of course, Miss Westfall. Please do excuse us, gentlemen," he finished, dipping a slight bow before rushing off.

With that, the two of them branched off, and Gillette and Norrington continued to walk, side by side. Both of them kept a stiff upper lip, and folded their hands behind their backs, and continued to say nothing… until Phillip decided to break the silence.

"So, I take it, then, that you talked to my cousin?" Gillette asked, his face all straight and serious.

"You do not need to _hint,_ Phillip. You know full well the outcome of our conversation. You were _listening in_._"_

Gillette 'gasped'—seemingly appalled at such an accusation. "How dare y_ou_—!"

"Let us stop this childishness, Phillip," Captain Norrington said sternly: stopping in his tracks and swiveling towards his old friend. "Let us reconcile… for Elanor's sake, if not even for our own."

At James's words, Gillette could not help but smile. Ever so slowly, he extended his hand, and the captain gripped it firmly.

* * *

><p><em><strong>A Few Moments Earlier<strong>_

Only a few moments earlier, Groves had helped Elanor down onto the soft, white sand under the palm tree, and she sighed with relief. Resting the back of her hand against her sweaty forehead, she inhaled a few deep breaths before attempting conversation. "Oh, blast, if only it _weren't_ against propriety for a lady to just… rid herself of this fretful undergarments, and jump into ocean whenever she pleases, with no one looking down their noses at her!" She turned hastily to meet Groves's placid gaze, and she sighed exasperatedly. "Oh, I am not making _any_ sense, am I, Lieutenant Groves?"

For a moment, Groves said nothing: rather, he drew his sword and used it in a careful attempt to cut a coconut free from the tree. When his effort proved to be a success, the large, green fruit fell with a thud into his arms, and he nearly dropped his sword in surprise. However, he caught it under his arm gracefully, and Elanor smiled warmly at him.

Once he had placed down the coconut, he re-sheathed his sword and replied: "To answer your question, Miss Westfall, I do not believe that what you are saying is nonsense." He stopped a beat, and withdrew a rusty pocket knife, which easily cut a small, complete circle into the husk. He liberally took a swig of the coconut water, and gasped, exhilaratingly refreshed, and offered the coconut to her.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she returned with an almost flirty smile as she lifted the coconut to her lips and took a rather unladylike sip. "Mmm! Is there anything more _refreshing_ than coconut milk?(!)(!)"

"I should say not, Miss Elanor," he returned with a weak smile. "And please, do call me Theodore."

"Thank you… _Theodore_… but I shall only accept your offer if you consent to call me 'Elanor'."

"But of course, Miss… I mean, _Elanor,"_ he returned shyly, flushing hot red.

In order to draw attention away from this, however, Groves said the first thing that came to his mind.

"Did you know, Elanor, that the coconut has many valuable properties?"

Elanor furrowed her brows at him. "No, I cannot say that I do."

"—While edible and nutritious, the coconut also, erm… can prove to be very valuable if one were to be marooned. Not only can its delicious meat serve as a satisfying meal for a starving belly, but if, perchance, the sun has scorched one's skin to the point of sunburn, the meat can be mashed into a sort of paste that will soothe the burning skin. The, uh, empty husks, also, can be hollowed out and made into makeshift dishes, or drums. Also, the hair of the husk, which is called _'cuir', _can be constructed into a rope, or utilized in caulking a damaged boat… if one should ever be desperate enough to do such an overly ambitious thing," Groves scoffed self-consciously.

Elanor let out a small giggle. "How very interesting!" she cried. "Where did you learn all this? For I doubt very much it was learned whilst training in the Royal Navy," she commented.

Groves hung his head a bit. "Oh, erm, reading, Miss. I do love to learn… and I suppose that I am quite the book worm."

"A nice and unusual occupation for a man such as yourself," Elanor returned with a smile. "I should very much like to see your library, sometime. Perhaps, we can read something together," she offered.

"I should like that very much, Elanor," he returned with a delighted grin.

* * *

><p>Naught but a few moments later did Elanor and Theodore return from their jaunt to the palm tree, as the lady <em>already<em> felt quite refreshed.  
>Arm-in-arm, they conversed gaily until they once again met up with Norrington and Gillette, and they continued to stroll along, not a care in the world.<p>

"Oh! What an exhilarating walk!" Elanor exclaimed gaily, flicking her fan in her face. "And it is much better now that the weather has cooled."

"Indeed, it is, Cousin," Gillette returned pleasantly as he folded his hands behind his back. "Now, I was just thinking, James—"

"_Oh my God!"_ Elanor screamed, pointing ahead to a form in the distance. "Phillip! There is… a woman… washed up on the shore up ahead!"

Gillette's eyes bulged. "Oh, dear Lord, you are right, Elly!" Gillette instantly turned to Norrington. "James, come with me."

"You needn't ask me twice," Norrington returned, breaking with Gillette into a fast run. In only a matter of moments, both men were hovering over me, concern written upon their faces.

James gazed down at me, gently tucking locks of my hair behind my ear as he untangled some seaweed from my hair. He did not even notice the Sword lying three feet or so in the distance, for his gaze was fixed on my serenely closed eyes. For a long moment, he studied me, as if to convince himself that this was not just a dream. _It is a nice face, _James thought to himself, as his eyes wandered downward, lingering for but a moment on my bosom, which swelled slightly each time I inhaled and exhaled—breathing so subtly, it was not even noticeable when the Navy men searched for my vital signs.

"Is she still alive?" James breathed anxiously as Gillette stooped in the sand to check the pulse in my wrist. For a few tense moments, he did not feel anything… but then, _finally,_ he felt a faint pulse, and he heaved a heavy sigh of relief. "_She's_ alive!"

"Thank God," Norrington returned, softly running his fingertips over my damp forehead to make sure that I did not have a fever. He nearly jumped when he heard me let out a moan of pain.

"She's waking up!" Gillette exclaimed excitedly, propping me head up.

My eyes opened slowly—and when I saw the officers before me, I was terribly confused. "Wh—Who are you? And where am I?" I asked in a barely-audible whisper.

Instinctively, Norrington stripped himself of his uniform overcoat, and placed it over my shoulders. "I am Captain James Norrington, and this is my friend, Lieutenant Phillip Gillette. You are safe, Miss. This is Port Royal."

I small, contented smile spread across my face. "Port Royal?"

"Indeed," Norrington returned with a kind smile.

"Thank you," I returned, starting to fall back into a slumber.

"Wait!" he cried desperately: his earnest green eyes meeting my disappearing gaze. "What is your name?"

"Ariana…. Ariana…. _Perrin,"_ I muttered, falling back into a deep sleep.

Gillette looked at James, and sighed exasperatedly. "_Good work,_ Casanova," he said sarcastically, nudging him in the shoulder. "You lulled her right back into a state of unconsciousness."

"For that, I apologize," James replied sincerely.

"Ah, well, it can't be helped, I suppose," Gillette returned. "We should really get her back to the house."

"Why don't you take her to Lordthorne Hall instead? My mansion is far closer to _this_ side of the beach than your house is," he pointed out.

"Great idea, James," Gillette returned, grunting as he gathered me up in his arms.

— "Is she all right?" Elanor panted after she and Groves had finally caught up with them.

"I think so, but she will definitely need a nurse, at least until we can fetch the doctor. I think that she is traumatized by whatever happened to her," Gillette volunteered.

"Ooh! I would love to help! I do know a little bit about medicine," Elanor admitted. "My father is a doctor, after all."

"Good, then, the post is yours," said James, and the four of them walked on.

James walked beside Gillette, and furrowed a brow when he espied the Sword in the sand. "Do you think that that is _hers?"_ Norrington asked in a dubious whisper.

"I seriously doubt it, but it doesn't hurt to take it with us anyway. After all, if it doesn't belong to her, it would make a nice souvenir for you."

"Too true, too true," Norrington replied, taking the Sword in his hand as they walked over the hill and trekked to Lordthorne Hall.

_Little did they all know how much I would change their lives…_ forever.

* * *

><p><strong>* WHEW! * That was long, but fun, right! :D Well, this is the last bit of 'action' we shall see from Ariana and her magical Sword for this story… it has served its purpose, but will manifest itself more often in the sequels I have planned! Hope that this chapter made sense and that you all enjoyed!<strong>

**Well, I personally loved writing the coconut bit, I read it somewhere and thought it fit perfectly in this chapter, as I can easily picture Groves as a bit of a nerd. Elanor and Groves will definitely be playing an integral role in this story… and this is my first time writing Groves, really, so bear with me if I do not get him perfect all the time!**

**Well, enjoy, and please, **R&R**! I was so excited when Ariana and James finally met…!**


	14. Awaking to a Dream

**AN./ **Hello once again! Thanks for sticking with me this far, and this is going to mark the _first REAL chapter_ with Ariana/Norrington interaction! I am so excited! And I hope you are, too! So, _REVIEW_, ye lubbers! Pretty please. :D

Oh, yeah, and for those of you who missed my _memo_ at the end of the last chapter, you will not see any more of 'Ariana's powers' for _this_ particular story. However, when we hit the actual trilogy, it will play more of a part in the storyline, as supernatural stuff happens to all the canon characters in _PotC_, because it is a _fantasy_ movie, and I do not want poor Ariana to get left behind. :D

Enjoy,  
>~ Silvertongued Dreams<p>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Fourteen<span>: Awaking to a Dream **

_Back on the beach,_ Jenna, my Father, and Steph finally staggered onto shore: water dripping in torrents off their clothes.

"Pirates! Debts! Unfair jaunts to the Caribbean!" Jenna griped as she struggled to walk and take off her high-heeled brown boot at the same time. "This is all just too much, but one thing trumps the rest," she broke off, huffing and trying to catch her breath. "What… the bloody _heck_… was that thing with the lightning and the thunder and that light and the… wave that carried Ariana all the way to shore while we had to _swim?(!)"_

"Jenna! Watch your language," our father, Lord Ashworth, barked. He sighed, not daring to look back at his two remaining daughters. "Oh, Lord, was I wrong to keep this to myself all these years."

Steph walked up to father, resting a worried hand on his shoulder, and gazed into his intense but soft gray eyes. "Keep _what_ from us, Father?"

Father sighed. "Oh, it's nothing."

Steph furrowed her brows. _What had he just said?(!)_

* * *

><p>WHEN I WOKE UP, my head was pounding like a hammer. Instantly, I realized that I was not on the <em>Black Pearl, <em>or the _Sapphire Dreame._ I was lying down on a rather lush, comfortable king-sized bed with elaborate coverlets. The room was bright, with its cream-colored bed linen and lacy curtains of the same color—a light purple floral pattern decorating the thick and warm feather comforter that currently rested on top of me.

"Mmm, where am I?" I asked groggily: cracking my eyes open slowly.

Much to my surprise, there was a quick shuffling of feet, and a pretty young lady with blonde hair entered my presence. "Oh, fantastic! You are awake!" she exclaimed, bathing my forehead with a wet cloth. "I was afraid that you were never going to awake!"

I furrowed my brows at her. "What is your name?" I asked.

"Elanor Westfall. But, please, call me Elanor! It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Perrin," she returned exuberantly.

"How long have I been here?" I asked, a bit confused that she knew my name.

"About two hours," she replied after arching her head back to consult the gold-rimmed clock on the wall.

"Who—Who is the man who rescued me?" I asked, smiling despite myself.

"That was my cousin," Elanor returned, beaming with pride.

"—He had such a soft, rich voice—it sent me right to sleep," I admitted with a small laugh. At my confession, the young lady's face fell for a brief moment.

"Oh, that would be Captain James Norrington," she explained. "He was with Phillip, my cousin, when he found you."

"I see," I said, snuggling further under the comforter. Then, it hit me. "Oh, God! My family! Where are—"

"—Miss Westfall, has the patient awoken yet?" came the rich, sensuous voice that had titillated my senses earlier. Only a second later, the dashing captain entered through the door with a smile, and his gaze met mine. "Ah, I see that she has!"

"Captain Norrington," I said, feeling extremely self-conscious at my current state: "Miss We—_Elanor_—has told me the whole story of the gallant rescue made by her cousin and yourself, and I am so glad that I can thank you in person for the kindness you have shown me."

"Oh, please, Miss Perrin, it was nothing," Norrington returned, trying to hide the color rising in his cheeks. He quickly folded his hands behind his back and changed the subject: nodding to the bed. "I hope that you find your current accommodations comfortable. I made sure that you had the finest guestroom I have to offer in Lordthorne Hall—for indeed, a lady must have the finest, and a lady you most _certainly _are." He bit his lower lip, thinking that perhaps he had rambled on a bit, and I chuckled gaily.

"Oh, you are very sweet!" I exclaimed, containing myself. "From what I have seen, your home is a very bright and lovely place, and I thank you wholeheartedly for taking me in."

"Of course—it was the proper thing to do. Until I find out where you intended to go, you may stay with me for as long as you like."

"Well, then, Captain… you might have quite a houseguest on your hands," I retorted playfully. "For, without my Father, who _alone_ knew our destination, I am afraid that I am perfectly lost."

James Norrington furrowed his brows attractively. "Good Lord… I cannot believe that I had not thought of it sooner," he groaned, scratching behind his neck. "You were not alone."

"No—I was not," I replied. "Father and my two adoptive sisters, Steph Morrison and Jenna da Silva, were traveling with me, aboard the _Sapphire Dreame, _until it was hijacked by pirates, and we were—" I paused, purposely neglecting to tell him about what had occurred with the Sword, which I had hoped he had somehow retrieved: "—we were forced to walk the plank. Forced to swim to shore. It was such a _long _way," I said, sighing heavily. Then, I switched the topic, somewhat. "I do not fear for the safety of my family, though, for I am almost certain that I saw them make it safely to land shortly after me."

"Then I shall have my men search the beach, and locate them at once, and I will bring them here to see that you are well. But, I must insist that you at least stay here for the night, for you are not well enough to leave."

"Thank you for your generosity, Captain Norrington," I said sincerely, looking up to meet his handsome gaze.

"It has been an honour," he returned graciously.

"—What has been an honor?" came a boisterous, pleasant, yet almost annoying voice that made Elanor roll her eyes as Gillette made his way through the door. "Oh! I see that our little mystery woman is awake!"

"Ah! You must be Elanor's cousin," I said.

"Lieutenant Phillip Gillette, at your service, Miss," he broke off, taking my hand and giving it a delicate kiss.

"—She is hardly a 'mystery woman', Phillip: we do know her name, remember?" James corrected.

"Oh, gentlemen, let me assure you, there is _quite _a bit about me left to uncover," I smirked broadly.

Norrington looked at me, a small smile playing upon his lips. Apparently, he was intrigued by that revelation—even if it _did_ come across as sligthtly inappropriate.

"—Anyway, Phillip, don't you think it is about time that you sent for the doctor?"

"Wha—? Oh, yes. I bid you adieu, Miss Perrin," Gillette replied, dipping a small bow as he charged out of the door.

"I like him," I chuckled under my breath. "He is rather amusing."

"He is what one might call an 'acquired taste', but I will not deny that he makes charming company when he puts his mind to it," Norrington admitted.

"Well, Captain… while I am sure that our Miss Perrin has appreciated your engaging conversation, but she should probably get a little more rest before the doctor arrives."

"But of course," Norrington replied, bowing to Elanor and myself. "Miss Westfall… Miss Perrin."

He started to move away, but it surprised me when he turned around once more—staring intently into my eyes. "Oh, and Miss Perrin?"

Already starting to drift off, I jumped a bit at the sound of my name—it sounded so natural coming off of his tongue. "Yes?" I replied.

"If the doctor feels it permissible, I would be honored if you would consent to join me for dinner tonight," he smiled wanly.

"I thank you, Captain, and if I am feeling up to it, I shall most certainly take you up on your invitation."

That seemed to be enough for him, and he turned to Elanor. "Miss Westfall, will you and your cousin also join my dinner party?"

"Absolutely, James," she returned, her eyes sparkling.

Satisfied with her answer, James bowed once again, and left us.

Once he was gone, I talked with Elanor for a few moments longer, and drifted back to sleep. I had had a rather trying day, but now, I could relax, knowing that I was in the care of someone who wouldn't hurt me, or pre-judge me in anyway. I was safe. And I knew that, soon, I would be reunited with the family I had been separated from. The captain was a very pleasant and respectable man—and I knew one thing for certain. I liked him. I liked him… _quite a bit._

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, this is the first one that I myself have not been perfectly content with. I hope that my opinion does not mirror yours, though! Chapter 15 will be coming along in a bit!<strong>

**Also, if you have the chance, please check out my new one-shot, **'Deeper Than You Know'—**it is a **_**very**_** short Norribeth one-shot, so it would not take you long to read and review. Anyway, thanks for all of your support, and do not forget to **R&R**! Thanks!**


	15. The Start of Something New

**AN./** Hello everyone! I am back with another chapter. This one will probably not be very 'exciting' to read, but still, it is a step in the right direction! Hope you all like! And, please, don't forget to **R&R!**

My new profile pic is of James and Ariana… just in case you want to have a look-see.

And just for the record… I do _not_ like HSM! LOLz.

Love,  
>~ Silvertongued Dreams<p>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Fifteen<span>: The Start of Something New**

— "You look perfectly fine to me, young lady, but, to be safe, I want you to take care for the next few days," the doctor said as he re-coiled his stethoscope and placed it into his black medical bag.

"Well, that is good news!" Elanor smiled. "Then, you can dine with us tonight, Miss Perrin!"

"Yes, that is grand," I returned, trying to hide my enthusiasm. I wanted to see the good captain at least once more. He had been so kind to me, that I felt I at least owed him the favor that he had asked of me.

"Well, I shall leave you both, now, and will come by to check on you again on the morrow," he returned with a twinkle in his eye. "Welcome to Port Royal, Miss Perrin. I can promise you that you shall have _no lack of excitement_ whilst you are here. There be pirate hangings nearly every Sat'rday, I tell ye!"

I shivered with disgust. "Well, I shall be here indefinitely, so I am looking forward to exploring the town when I am well enough."

The doctor tipped his hat to me in reply before ducking out of the door. I understood—I could only imagine how many other patients he had to treat besides me.

— "I would be more than willing to show you around, but there is no one who knows Port Royal better than our good captain," Elanor beamed. "And I am so glad to hear that you shall be here for a while! I hope that we shall become great friends."

I smiled in return. "If we are to be friends, then, by all means, please, call me Ariana."

"Very well… _Ariana,"_ she returned with a pleasant grin.

* * *

><p>James sat alone in the parlor—wineglass in hand—smirking. He had no idea why he was in such a good mood, but he just was. Perhaps it was because he felt as though he had done someone some good, for a change. It had been <em>months<em> since he had been on a mission at sea, on the _Dauntless,_ and since the time he last disembarked from his ship, he had felt rather purposeless. Now, he felt that he could be of some help to this young woman—and, despite all his efforts to remain uninvolved, he found himself greatly intrigued by her, and he wanted to know _more_….

The thudding sound of the front door being shut broke James's reflective state, and he jolted out of his seat. "Ah, Theodore! You are back."

"I apologize for having had to leave, but I really did need to let my housekeeper know what was going on. She did not expect me to be gone past 2:00 PM, and it is, already, nearly 4:30 PM. She would have been worried had I not explained what had happened." Groves stiffened, and cleared his throat. "But I am back now, and, if any errand needs to be run on behalf of the young lady, I am more than willing to volunteer my services."

"Well, as it happens, she did awake whilst you were gone," Norrington began suspensefully.

"And?"

"—She was traveling with her father and two adoptive sisters. She was the victim of a vicious pirate attack, and the four of them were forced to walk the plank. She saw them reach shore, but—"

"—You want me to locate them for you," Groves finished for him, scoffing. "I understand. You don't want to do the work yourself because you _like_ her, don't you?(!)"

Norrington feigned offense. "Of course not! It would be inappropriate to leave my lovely guest without an host."

Groves did his best to conceal a smirk, and twisted his lip into a sort of frown. "So you say, but I shall expect some sort of recompense for the long walk I shall have to make," he returned with a slightly arched brow: doing very well at hiding the amused look in his eyes.

"Oh, I am sure I can think of something," James returned in his customarily serious tone: chuckling into his glass of wine.

— "Captain Norrington?"

The handsome captain shot up from the sofa, and turned to meet the voice that had addressed him: _mine._

"Ah, Miss Perrin! I trust that you are feeling much better?"

I had walked into the parlor arm-in-arm with Elanor, but, after the captain's query, I strived to walk without any support.

"Yes, I am, thank you very much, and I have come to tell you that the doctor was very pleased with what he saw after examining me."

"I am truly glad to hear it," he returned, walking over to me and kissing my hand. "So, you shall be able to join us for dinner?"

"Why, yes, if the offer still stands," I returned politely.

"_Of course it does,"_ James returned in a scarcely audible whisper as he removed his hand from mine.

"I really don't know how to thank you for all you have done on my behalf. You have been marvelous," I said with sincerity.

Norrington stiffened, but his cheeks colored slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Well, I have never had that term pinned to me before, Miss Perrin, and I am certain that I do not deserve it," he returned with a wane smile. It was then that he realized that he had not introduced Groves to me. "Goodness! Where are my manners? Miss Perrin—" he broke off, "the man standing before you here is my trusted friend, commissioned officer of His majesty's Royal Navy, Second Lieutenant Theodore Groves."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Perrin," Groves said politely, bowing slightly as he took my hand and kissed it. "But, I am afraid, I must depart if I wish to scour the entire beach before nightfall."

"Lieutenant Groves has kindly volunteered to lead a party of men to search for your family, Miss Perrin," Norrington explained. "But he shall be back in time to join us for dinner."

"I cannot wait, and thank you, Lieutenant Groves," I returned with a smile as I curtsied to him.

"Captain Norrington. Miss Perrin, Miss Westfall," he said, flourishing his tricorne hat before leaving our midst: a twinkle in his eye as his gaze met Elanor's for one, fleeting moment before he disappeared around the corner and out of sight.

* * *

><p>Groves rushed to Fort Charles, gathering all of the marines he could to help him on his search.<p>

"Men, Captain Norrington and Lieutenant Gillette found a young lady washed ashore earlier this afternoon: a victim of a pirate attack. I have been ordered to search the rest of the beach for any other survivors. I shall need a few of you men to help me with the search."

Upon those words, three willing men stepped forward. "Bloody pirates!"

Groves cleared his throat, and stared down at the man who had spoken. "Yes, well, while I do not appreciate your coarse language, I could not agree with you more.

"We have a wide expanse to cover: the other survivors could be _anywhere_ on the beach, and it is our duty, _as King's men,_ to find the innocent and protect them! _Are you with me?(!)" _he cried passionately.

"Sir, yes, sir!" the all exclaimed in unison: snapping to attention and saluting before returning to position.

"Thank you, gentlemen. You are free to go," Groves said with a tight nod, following up behind them.

* * *

><p>I was loving Port Royal already. It was as if all my prayers had been answered! I had scarcely been there for a few hours, and already, I was forming bonds with kind people who seemed to care about me. Elanor Westfall was quite sweet and gentle, and a good companion who I could see quickly becoming a close friend and <em>confidant<em>. Lieutenant Gillette proved to be fascinating company, and I laughed at every single humorous remark he made. But James Norrington, however—James was someone extra special.

Every time his jade-green eyes met mine, they were deep: full of meaning and allure. He was undeniably the most attractive man I had ever met, and, from what I had seen that day, a very just and kind one as well. Whenever he walked into a room, he commanded everyone's full attention. To the men, he spoke with firm authority, and to the ladies, he expressed himself with charm and excellence—just as it should always be.

"So, James, did Ariana tell you the good news?" Elanor asked, looking at me excitedly.

Upon Elanor's words, James's eyes slowly turned towards me, as if peering through me: and that made me rather uncomfortable, so I hung my head slightly. "No, I am afraid that she hasn't, Miss Westfall." His voice was gentle, but his eyes were even _more_ so. "What good news might she be alluding to, Miss Perrin?"

"I, erm, am certain I do not know, Captain Norrington," I chuckled nervously, scarcely lifting my eyes to meet his. While I found him absolutely _fascinating,_ I was terrified at the same time. Terrified, perhaps, more so at the thought of showing how much I liked him, more than of the man himself. I closed my eyes, ashamed of myself. _I should not be having these thoughts,_ I scolded myself: _After all, I am promised to another…._

Elanor scoffed in surprise, nudging me with her elbow (for she was sitting next to me): "Oh, don't be a simpleton! You know!"

I looked at her, and though I should have known what she was trying to say, I was too distracted to understand what she was getting at. I stared into her eyes intently, trying to keep focus, but I always found my gaze drifting towards the dashing captain. _Ariana, not now… blast it all, all he did was save you! You might never even see him again after today._

"—I… I suppose that Elanor means that she was glad to hear that my stay in Port Royal is to be a permanent one," I smiled wanly—self-consciously.

"Well, that most certainly _is_ a thing to be thankful for," he smiled kindly. "I hope I shall see much of you and your family."

"That will be entirely up to you, Captain Norrington, I can assure you—as for me, I would be only too glad to oblige. I am certain that there are no people in this town more decent and caring than the ones gathered in this room."

Captain Norrington smiled at me, his laugh ringing through the room. "Well, I am glad that we all have made such a grand first impression on you."

"You all made it so easy," I finished in a soft, _soft _whisper that I do not think anyone but Elanor heard. I swallowed guiltily, doing _anything _but looking directly at Norrington. _I need to write Alexander… at once,_ I told myself, quickly seizing up the glass of wine before me and taking a hasty sip.

Fortunately, however, the gong summoning us to dinner was rung, and I let out a sigh of relief. _Flawless timing,_ I thought to myself as I brushed past the captain, and took Phillip Gillette's offered arm.

"Miss Westfall?" Norrington asked, offering his arm to the fair woman by his side.

"Thank you, my good sir," she smiled, barely restraining a merry laugh as he escorted her into the dining hall.

* * *

><p>Darkness had fallen so that Lieutenant Theodore Groves could scarcely see the outlines of his men in front of him. Gingerly, he raised his lantern higher in the air: its pale orange light not doing much to aid his vision. Far ahead of him, the marines had scattered and dispersed: their lanterns resembling dancing fireflies, flickering in the moonlight. Quite frankly, he was losing hope. He had not heard so much as <em>one cry<em> from them—

— "Lieutenant Groves!"

… Until _now._ The dutiful and diligent lieutenant smiled wanly.

"Lieutenant Groves! They have been sighted!"

Nearly dropping his lantern as he ran as hard as he possibly could, Groves reached the site within a matter of minutes.

Murtogg, who had been the first marine to spot my family, stood up straight, awkwardly holding his rifle and bayonet and trying to look intimidating as he stood watch over Steph, Jenna, and my Father, as Groves approached.

"Oh, thank heaven! You are a sight for sore eyes, officer," Steph smiled. "We have been wandering this beach for hours, trying to find our way to the town. Our ship was attacked by _pirates_, and we were forced to walk the plank! We were fortunate enough, however, to make it to land all safe and sound."

Groves smiled weakly. "You are indeed very fortunate, and if it had not been for your sister, Miss Perrin, you might not have been found at all."

"—Where is my daughter?(!)" suddenly demanded my Father, Lord Ashworth, in desperation.

"You need not worry, she is safe, in the house of my superior commander," he said in reply: touched by great note of anxiety in my father's voice. "I promise, you shall be reunited with her in the morning."

"I am so glad to hear that," Steph interjected.

"I only wish that we could have found you all sooner, Miss—?"

"Miss Morrison. Stephanie… Morrison." She extended her hand, and he kissed it.

"Lord Ashworth," my father volunteered, gripping the lieutenant's hand firmly, and shaking it. Jenna stood next to him, unspeaking, and shivering. Groves removed his jacket, and placed it over her shoulders. "And what might your name be, Miss?" he asked kindly.

"J—J—_Jenna,"_ she managed at length. "Jenna da Silva, sir."

"Well, Miss da Silva, I can see that you are chilled to the bone." Groves turned instantly to Murtogg, and snapped his fingers. "Murtogg! Mullroy! See to it that these fine people reach Fort Charles safely." He turned back to my adoptive sisters. "You shall stay there for the evening until we can sort out things, and get you all where you need to go."

"Dear daughters, please, go on without me," Father said tenderly: patting a very hesitant Jenna on the back. His smile then changed into a bitter scowl. "There is someplace I need to be."

Then, without a further word, my Father traveled up the hill ahead, and a strange sense of déjà vu hit. _It's just as I remember,_ he thought to himself, as a dark and looming building in the distance emerged from the shadows.

* * *

><p>Captain Cutler Beckett stood on the dark balcony overlooking the beach: his arms splayed out before him as his hands elegantly gripped the railing. "He should have arrived by now," he sniveled, moving away from the railing. "His ship should have come in by now. But, perhaps, they were delayed—"<p>

The upstart captain's musings were cut _unexpectedly _short when a nervous maid tumbled into the room, and dipped a clumsy curtsy.

"Lord Ashworth to see you, Captain Beckett," she stammered.

A broad, sly smirk played across the captain's face. _At last._ Lord Ashworth had finally come to spar with him. _A worthy opponent… __at last_.

Then, all of a sudden, a fuming Lord Ashworth burst in, panting heavily. "Beckett, we _**really** _need to talk."

Just to taunt him, Beckett delayed with a response, and turned his back to him: pulling out a chair before _smarmily_ replying: "But of course… _'Lord'_ Ashworth." He snorted through his nose: his disgust for the man before him quite apparent. "I was just going to suggest the very same thing."

* * *

><p>… <strong>And, <strong>_**ta-da!**_** Another cliffy! What will happen now that everyone has met?(!) Well, stay tuned to find out, as the next chapter reveals Beckett's connection to the fall of Ariana's family!** **Please **R&R! **Thank you very much! Your reviews are greatly appreciated. **_:D_


	16. It's Just Good Business

**AN./ **Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukah! *gets a bunch of weird looks* Oh, wait, no, that's not right… LOLz!

I hope that this chappie is all that you expected! In this one, Beckett's full plot is revealed and there is a bit of Norrington/Ariana deliciousness. (By now you have probably all figured out who Ariana is based off of… haha, I am glad that everyone likes me/her!)

I am so, SO sorry for this long wait! I was very sick with viral pneumonia, and could not even make it to the computer to write. I hope this extra-long chapter compensates somewhat for your wait!

**My _2_ New **_**PotC**_** One-shots:** Deeper Than You Know & What Does The Past Matter, Anymore?

**NOTE**: You NEED to read a story that is in my favorites: _'__The Duchess__'_ by _E.R. Dernhelm_. It is awesomeness itself! And I am in it! (Her character _Nelia_ is me; Nelia is my favorite girl's name). The tale is about a girl named Miranda Jones: the daughter of Davy Jones and Calypso. It is _epic. _Anyway, please check it out!

Enjoy, and God bless! Oh, and please, **R&R**!

~ **Silvertongued Dreams**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Sixteen<span>**: **"It's Just Good Business."**

For a moment, it was all just a staring contest. A _game_. Beckett loved the tight hold he had over Ashworth—the hold he had _always_ had.

"Damn you, you filthy swine," my Father cursed angrily. "You have no idea what your 'business' has cost me!"

"Tsk, tsk, Lord Ashworth! Temper, temper, temper," Beckett tutted under his breath as he turned his back to pour a small glass of brandy: then another one for his unexpected guest. He turned to my Father, whose eyes were still glinting with ire, while his, on the other hand, remained soft and undisturbed as a calm day at sea. His gaze shifted downward, studying the man before him. His voice was practically a whisper as he leaned forward slightly. "And, as I recall, the decision to engage in my 'business' was entirely up to you. So, why blame me?" he asked innocently.

Father scoffed, and nearly spat. "Why—_I sold my house!_ I took away my daughters' futures, just to pay you off! And what do you do?(!) You tell me that it is still not enough! Have you no mercy?(!)"

"A gentleman must uphold an agreement… must he _not_… Lord Ashworth?" Beckett replied with a coy smile, slowly meeting his gaze. He cleared his throat before looking at Father, and casually handed him one of the brandy glasses. "And, as for your daughters, I would not worry for them."

My father arched a brow. "And what do you mean by _that?"_

"Such… _lovely_ creatures, aren't they?" he replied in a sick sort of admiring tone as he took a sip of his brandy and circled my father, whose gaze shifted slowly and suspiciously. "Especially that, erm… Ariana, is it?" he continued, pretending to forget my name, but no, he _hadn't._ Far from it, indeed.

"What do you want from me?" Father drove straight to the point—a characteristic I had always greatly admired in him.

"Your title as _Lord,_ for one," Beckett began smoothly: "complete subservience to me, and… oh… there _is_ one more thing."

"Anything," Father replied desperately.

"I—" Beckett halted himself: tapping his chin with his finger. "I am sure I can think of something. Meanwhile, I need you to sign some papers, and to use your signet on my behalf."

"What papers be they?" Father demanded.

"Oh… your first act of fealty to the greatest captain in the Caribbean." Beckett wore a suspiciously sly smirk as he withdrew some letters from a chest on his desk that bore the insignia of the East India Trading Company. Casually, he signed his signature, and signaled to my father to sign beside his name. My father heaved a deep sigh as he graced his elegant signature to the paper.

"I rue the day that I ever agreed to go into business with you. You are a little leech—and after you have sucked me dry of everything that I own… you _still _keep on pressing." Father snorted angrily.

"Yes, well… an agreement is an agreement, is it not, my good sir," Beckett forced a smile. "That privateer _Jack Sparrow_—_"_ he spat the name out with disgust: "—and his _moral _qualms—made this situation all the more distasteful." He swallowed bitterly as he temporarily shifted his eyes to the blank wall, then down, for a moment. "If it were not for him, neither one of us would be in this room. But, I must say, I am glad at where we are now."

Father removed his signet ring from the wax, and looked at Beckett. "Why do you say that, Captain Beckett?"

He turned around, a sick smile on his face. "_Oh,_ it's Lord now, actually… Mr. Ashworth."

Father turned deathly pale—the realization of what he had just done hitting him hard. _Oh, my God, what have I done?_

* * *

><p>Forty-five minutes after Lieutenant Groves had located my family, he returned to Lordthorne Hall, exhausted and famished.<p>

"I am pleased to say, Miss Perrin, that your family has been found, safe, and _unharmed,_ and relocated to Fort Charles for the night."

"Oh, thank you, thank you! Thank you so very much!" I squealed, leaping from my seat and enveloping him in a tight squeeze. Norrington restrained a chuckle, and, instead, coughed into the ruffled cuff of his shirtsleeve. "You all have been so gracious towards me! I really don't know how to thank you."

James was about to say something when, all of a sudden, Gillette piped in: "Well, I know where you can start!" I furrowed my brows for a moment, and then, with a little chortle, he said: "Let's eat!"

I let out a melodious laugh, and took his offered arm. Groves offered his arm to Elanor, and the poor captain, feeling rather left out, headed up the rear as we entered into the dining hall.

"Miss Perrin," Phillip offered with a smile as he withdrew my chair, which was beside his own. Elanor sat next to Groves, and across from me, and James took the head of the table.

As Elanor down beside him, Groves gave her a shy smile before quickly shifting his gaze towards Norrington, who quickly carved the delicious fowl before us.

April Seax carefully spooned a ladle-full of hot pea soup into our bowls, out of a fancy tureen whilst the old, comely manservant Marsdon poured us a glass of the finest red wine available.

All was silent at the table for a moment, as we waited for our host to speak. He looked as though he was in very deep thought, and after a few moments, he half-bit his lower lip, and slowly reached for his crystal wineglass. "I wish to propose a toast," he began in his rich, deep voice: then, his gaze shot toward me as he raised the goblet: "Miss Perrin, may your new life in this promising town of Port Royal be pleasant and fruitful." He nodded to me with a sparkle in his eye as he lifted his glass to his lips, and Gillette exclaimed:

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Elanor finished after her cousin and Groves: daintily sipping her wine as she looked over at me.

* * *

><p>The rest of dinner passed by beautifully. I swear, after only five hours with these wonderful people, I felt as though I had known them for five <em>years<em>. They were all so kind… and gentle… and caring… that when it was time for them all to leave, I was sorry to see them go.

"I hope that we shall see more of you, Miss Perrin," Groves said, tipping his hat to me as he prepared to exit the mansion. "And, hopefully, I shall have the honor of getting to know your family better, as well. They seem quite charming."

I smiled weakly. Would he wish to know me, still, once he knew of my family's situation? "Thank you, Lieutenant Groves."

— "Phillip?" Elanor's voice called out into the crisp night air: vapor emitting from her mouth as she spoke. Although in the Caribbean, the night was uncommonly cool, which was a bit of relief after the scorching sun earlier.

"Coming, coming, Elanor!" Gillette groaned as he stumbled down the stairs.

"It is getting rather late, and I am sure poor Miss Perrin is exhausted after all that she has gone through." She flashed a smile, then looked directly into James's eyes. "Goodnight, James."

"Good night, Miss Elanor," he returned, taking her hand and kissing it. "Phillip, Theodore, I shall see you both in the morning."

"But of course, Captain," Theodore returned with a reverent bow as the three of them disappeared into the night.

… Leaving me _quite_ alone with a certain Captain to whom I had already grown rather fond of—but unspeakably uncomfortable—around.

Captain Norrington let out a heavy sigh, then, after a few moments, he turned to me. "Miss Perrin, I regret to impose upon you at such a late hour, especially after all that you have been put through today, but there is something that I must discuss with you."

I was surprised at this—_truly_ surprised. I felt extremely hot all of a sudden, and cleared my throat daintily. "Yes, Captain Norrington?"

"Please, follow me," he said mysteriously, his hand on the small of my back as he guided me to a dimly-lit room.

I wanted to ask him what this was all about, but I did not dare to. I did not want to seem ungrateful after all he had done for me.

He walked on a few steps ahead, his back turned to me, and I took the time to inhale a breath.

"Miss _Perrin,"_ he said, finally swiveling towards me: "there was an item recovered at the beach, not far from where we found you. I was wondering if you could tell me who the owner is."

" 'An item' ?"

He silently bade me to step forward, and I followed his gaze to the long Sword lying atop the table in front of us. I gasped. He had found it! Oh, no! Did he know who I was, or would he mistake me for a pirate?(!)

"You recognize it, I see," he commented, a small smile playing upon his lips.

"Y—Yes. It is a family heirloom, of sorts," I swallowed hard, then dared to meet his gaze. The eyes I met bore no ill, or suspicion of any sort, and it was then that I realized how _foolish_ I had been to think so suspiciously of the man who had saved my life.

"Well, then, I am pleased that I can return It into the hands of its proper owner," he smiled almost smarmily, extending the Sword to me.

"Oh, no thank you, shall I take It later?" I tittered nervously, not wanting to touch the blasted thing and risk hurting either myself or the good captain.

"If that is what you wish," he returned kindly, once again resting the Sword on the table. "I respect the art and craftsmanship of all swords, and gathered that the owner of such a masterpiece as This would miss it greatly." He lowered his head and scoffed. "But, I expect that a woman such as yourself holds no interest in such things."

"Oh, no, actually, I do," I nodded insistently. "I… well, I write quite a few novels in which men of your caliber are… quite prominent." I swallowed hard, trying not to meet his gaze.

Norrington furrowed his brows. He had never heard such an admission from a lady—and writing? Such a unusual and unique passion for a young lady! Despite all his efforts, James's interest in this 'mystery woman'—as Gillette had so aptly put it—was getting piqued. I was different than all those others, and I was the first to be so… _different_… in a very long time….

"_Really?"_ replied Norrington with an impressed smile, his eyebrows crinkling up with amusement and… and… and those eyes… those gorgeous, mesmerizing jade green eyes… they melted my heart like candle wax.

"Y**—**Yes," I replied, stuttering hopelessly and lightly inhaling.

"I should love to read it sometime…." then his voice trailed off… and so did his gaze.

"You flatter me, Captain," I returned, laughing nervously. I was somewhat glad when he did not pursue the subject further.

"—Well, should your research on our weaponry ever prove to be… _inadequate_… I would be glad to demonstrate some basic skills with my sword."

I heart leaped with excitement at the thought. I had always been fascinated by Naval weapons, particularly the decorative ceremonial sabres that high-ranking officers of the King often received with their promotions. The only thing that intrigued me more, was the man that stood staunchly before me. "Oh, I should _love_ to see your sword," I smirked playfully.

He smiled wanly, laughing lightly as he shifted his gaze to the floor for a moment. "Well, unfortunately, now is not an appropriate time for such a venture, but, I trust, it is one I shall be able to oblige you in at some time in the future." He arched his head to better see the expression on my face, then quickly added: "but I should love to be of service, should the need ever arise."

"Thank you—I shall bear that in mind," I replied, as I turned to walk away. **_*Pause*_**. "Well, goodnight, Captain Norrington."

"Goodnight, Miss Perrin," he replied in a low voice as he watched my form disappear into the shadows.

* * *

><p>It had become quite a familiar feeling—undressing myself without the help of a maid. Ever so slowly, my still-damp dress fell to the floor, and I slipped into a piece of peach-colored, silken negligee that Elanor had sent over from her personal wardrobe. After slipping it over my head, I went over to the desk in my current room, and took up the feather quill.<p>

— — —

"Dear Alexander:

Lord knows that I have done poorly I have done at keeping my promise to you in writing once a week. But, perhaps, after reading this letter, you shall forgive me for this fault. How are you, and Shayla? How are all the dear friends that I have left behind?

Our journey to Port Royal was an undeniably _rocky_ one. I was roomed with a beastly young aristocratic woman named Lana Simpson, which, on top of some… _family_ conflicts, weighed upon me so I could not write.

Only today did we reach Port Royal—but it was not in a way that _any_ of us had expected. To cut a very long and confusing story short, our ship, the _Sapphire Dreame,_ was captured by a crew of strange pirates, and we were forced to walk the plank. I—I would hate to think what would have happened if—Captain Norrington had not found me before he did. He is so kind, and gentle, and sent out a party to search for my family when I am certain _no one else_ would have. It is here, from one of the rooms in his mansion, that I write here to you now, hoping all is well.

_(_—_Here, I paused, tapping the feather quill against my chin agitatedly. I knew that I needed to write something a lover would write, something that would leave him assured of my love for him: something… that would send him into a state of ecstasy_—_even if it were for but a moment._—_)_

I love you, and miss you greatly, my darling… and not a day goes by without my thinking of you. Please send my love to Shayla, and to your parents, and please, do not be worried about what I have relayed to you in this letter. We are all well… and, already, I am very happy here.

With love,  
>Ariana"<p>

— — —

I sighed heavily as I folded the letter and sealed it. I knew that what I had written was, perhaps, deceitful, but I hoped that writing in such a way would help me to develop such feelings for Alexander.

_I need to keep my focus,_ I told myself, arching my head _way_ back as I groaned and stretched. _Oh, Ariana, breathe, dear, breathe._

* * *

><p>The bed was warm and comfortable, and I snuggled deep under the covers as I tried to get to sleep. For the first time in nearly a month, I felt safe and secure where I was. No one was going to hurt me, and I was finally in Port Royal, away from all those pirates, and away from that <em>wretched<em> nuisance, Lana Simpson. But, something still bothered me—what Captain Hector Barbossa had said earlier that afternoon. _'You have not seen the last of me'_…. What could he possibly have meant by that?

_Blast it, Ariana, just get to sleep, why don't you. God only knows when you will get another chance to rest up like this._

But I did not want to sleep. I wanted to see the captain again. _Ohh, Ariana, you are setting yourself up for trouble! Don't get so involved. Don't get so_—

I closed my eyes taut. Dare I even admit it to myself? No, to confess it would be to acknowledge how weak I was. Nonetheless, there was nothing I could do.

_Blast, I _am attracted_ to him,_ I sighed exasperatedly before blowing out the lantern on my nightstand and drifting off into the wondrous world of sleep.

* * *

><p>Sunlight streamed in through the window, and I let out a soft moan. I had not slept so well since—well, I could not remember when. With a slight stretch, I cast aside the silky sheets, and placed my bare feet on the soft, carpeted floor. Ever so quietly, I approached the bay window, whose lacy curtains billowed slightly as I approached. The dim light of the rising sun poked through the elegant pattern, and I drew back the shades dramatically—revealing a truly <em>gorgeous<em> sunrise.

"This is _amazing,"_ I breathed in deeply, a smile crossing my face. "A brilliant new dawn to mark a brilliant… new… beginning."

With exuberance and haste, I went behind the changing curtain, and dressed myself within a matter of a few minutes.

I breathed in deeply as I ventured out of the door, making sure to tread silently, as I was not certain that anyone else would be up at such an early hour. I had _always_ loved getting up early. It had become sort of a habit since I was a young girl, starting when my beloved mother used to let me bake chocolate-chip cookies with her to have later in the day. My mother _loved _chocolate—especially in her delicious cookies. I could well remember the time when I had asked why cookies tasted so good, and my mother had said: _'Why, it is because we put all of our love into them, my dear. Love… is sweeter than anything else in this world. Even chocolate!'_ and had playfully tapped my nose before letting me sample the delicious dough.

I looked out into the bold new orange horizon with great longing. Oh, the memories! They all just came flooding right back in. Memories that had long since been put away because they were too painful to bear. All undone… by one simple sunrise.

I sighed as I adjusted the bow on the back of my dress and hastened out of the door.

I tiptoed out into the hall cautiously—I had no idea of knowing whether or not anyone else in Lordthorne Hall would be awake. Other than the servants, of course. But as you could guess, by now, I had no interest in talking to the servants—I just wanted to talk to the captain again.

… Yet, here I was, partly hoping that he was not awake so I could sneak out for a walk before breakfast.

"Ah, Miss Perrin, you are awake," I heard Captain Norrington's voice ring out rather cheerily as I passed by his office. He turned to me and smiled, his gaze struggling not to wander downward. "That dress suits you very well, if I might say so."

I laughed. "I thank you _dearly_ for the compliment, good captain, but this is the very same dress I wore yesterday."

He seemed surprised, and furrowed his brow. "Really?"

I merely smiled back. "Yes, really."

There was a pause, and, searching for a new means of conversation, gestured to the stack of papers I saw sprawled rather sloppily over his desk. "Working already?"

"Yes. All night," he mumbled back to me, hastily turning his back to me and placing the papers in an orderly stack.

He seemed lost, somehow—and sad: those beautiful sea green eyes of his forlorn and empty. Despite all he had done to make everyone else safe and happy, James had never kept anything back for himself. "All night?" I returned in unbelief. Captain Norrington must not have heard me: he scarcely gave me a response, and continued to shuffle the dispatches into a pile, as if trying to dissuade me from pursuing the topic further—as though it had been painful to him. And the thought of him in pain—it made me feel helpless… even though I had scarcely known him for even a day.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I rested my hand on top of his, and his gaze met mine. "Your silence," I said in a low, shaky voice: hanging my head. "I—I know what it is that you go through. It is not a thing I would wish on anyone… not even my worst enemy."

I think I shocked him with my sincerity—how could I possibly know what he was going through? The hunger and the longing for an amorous companion to fight away the ghosts of loneliness in the darkest hours of the night—the bitter echo of an empty hall, devoid of laughter and merriment. _How could such a wonderful woman… know such pain as I? _James's heart churned with emotion. _Dare I show what I am feeling? No_—_she can see straight through me: God, am I so vulnerable?_

I looked at him, concerned that he had not spoken. Had I gone too far over the line? Had I broken the bounds of propriety that he clearly held so dear—merely by opening my heart to him, even just that little bit?

We gazed intently into one another's eyes, not quite sure what to say… or do. I was relieved when, at last, he cleared his throat, and picked up his large stack of dispatches. "Miss Perrin, I was thinking—"

"Yes?"

There was an awkward pause.

"Captain?"

He let out a small gasp, clearing his throat. "Would you like some breakfast? Cook makes _fabulous_ strawberry tarts."

I forced a smile. "I think that that is a lovely idea, Captain Norrington."

With those words, I took his arm—wondering endlessly if 'strawberry tarts' were the only things pressing on his mind.

* * *

><p>"You must be rather anxious to see your family," Norrington noted as he saddled his horse, Rochester.<p>

I leaned against the stable entrance dreamily, plucking at the petals of a common flower. "Not as anxious as I would have been… had you not—" I stopped myself.

Norrington turned sharply towards me, a very small smile playing upon the corners of his mouth. His eyes were soft, gentle, and playful—a look I had not expected of him. "Had I not _what_, Miss Perrin?"

I hung my head rather ashamedly. "Why, had you and Lieutenant Gillette not found me, Captain Norrington."

James swallowed the lump forming in his throat, and turned to face his horse again: closing his eyes taut for a moment. "It is what any gentleman would have done, Miss Perrin. I did nothing more than my duty."

When he turned to look at me, I tried my hardest not to look a little disappointed. Of course he viewed watching over me as merely a duty. He was a sensible man—he would not believe in such silly notions as love at first sight… or be attracted to such an unusual woman as I. The world would think me a fool for even _dreaming_ that I could set my sights on him… especially now that I was engaged… and practically penniless.

"Of course," I managed at last, staring down at the hay-covered floor. "One has but to look at you to surmise that you are an honorable man."

"I thank you for the compliment, but I assure you, it is completely unwarranted," he replied, stepping towards me. My heart leapt into my throat when I felt his hand on my chin, lifting my face to meet his gaze. "But, if it means anything, I shall have you know that this particular duty… was a pleasure."

I tried to hide my smile. "Why so?"

He paused reflectively for a moment. "Do I need to have a reason?"

I laughed melodiously as he mounted his stallion. "No—no, I suppose not."

Naught but a moment later, he reached down to pull me up on the horse, behind him. "You might want to hold on."

"Wha—?"

"Hiya!" he shouted, kicking the stirrups into the horses sides, sending us flying out of the stable and across the beach.

Time seemed to freeze as we flew the air like angels on wing. I felt so secure on Rochester: the spicy Caribbean breeze whipped my shoulder-length hair into my face, and I gripped tightly onto the good captain.

The thudding of Rochester's hooves drowned out any other sounds that might have otherwise reached my ears. It seemed like eons before the regal, towering battlements of Fort Charles came into view.

I was practically dizzy by the time we had actually arrived at the Fort. James, however, was perfectly steady, and dismounted with ease.

"Miss Perrin," he bade, holding his hands up to help me down.

Catching me by the waist, he brought me down gently, and I let out a sigh of relief. Although I had enjoyed the ride… it had been rather petrifying, as well.

"That… was… _amazing!"_ I panted exhaustedly, tumbling into the sand.

"Oh, goodness!" Norrington exclaimed, turning back to me after securing Rochester's reins on the fence. "Miss Perrin! Are you quite all right?"

He stooped to his knees, concern washing over his face, but once he propped me up, he saw that I was laughing hysterically.

"I fail to see the humor in this situation, Miss Perrin. You may very well have been hurt, and I should not have liked to be the bearer of ill news to your fam—"

"Oh, Captain," I laughed, settling down: "You worry _far_ too much."

He just stared at me a moment: and I at him. He hovered over me, and sunlight danced attractively in his jade-green eyes. He looked so gorgeous right then, so tempting, even though this was the most innocent of situations—and, unwittingly, I found my eyes drifting shut as his warm breath glided against my skin….

_No, Ariana—you can't do this. He doesn't even know what he is doing to you…._

"_Captain…"_ I panted… "You—I cannot get up."

"Oh! Accept my sincerest of apologies," Norrington returned, rising to his feet. "How careless of me. It really is inexcusable," he bowed his head slightly. "Not to mention… it looked rather improper, I am sure." He swallowed hard.

"Really, there is no need to go on so," I returned in a rather flustered tone: rising hastily and smoothing out my skirts.

James was about to say something in reply, when the excited voices of Jenna and Steph exploded in my ears. "Ariana! Ariana! Ariana! _Ariana!"_

I gasped as Jenna rushed towards me, nearly knocking me over again. "ARIANA! I am so glad that you are safe!"

_Feeling rather out of place,_ James politely tipped his hat to me, and moved to depart.

— "Oh, my dear daughter," Father's voice came in unexpectedly, as he came to us from behind the fort: looking rather tired—but I did not question him. In one swift motion, he enveloped us all in a tight embrace. "I am so, _so_ glad to see you again."

"As am I—as am I," I returned, a smile on my face as the illustrious captain disappeared into the distance.

Following my listless gaze, Father nodded "My darling, who _was _that man?"

I stared into the distant horizon, my mind lost in thought. "Captain James Norrington, Father." I scarcely breathed, as I whispered almost inaudibly to myself: _He's a very fine man_—_a _very_ fine man indeed._

"I only hope that I shall be able to see him again… one last time."

"—Ariana, did you just say something?" Jenna asked: her soft blue eyes scanning my face pensively.

"Oh, it's nothing," I returned morosely: inhaling almost shakily. "Nothing at all."

* * *

><p><strong>For those of you who might not have understood what Beckett was referring to, that Jack Sparrow 'ruined'... it was his business in the slave trade, as mentioned in <em>A.C. Crispin's<em> book **'The Price of Freedom'.

**Well... I hope that this chapter ending didn't seem thrown-together! And I hope you enjoyed the first real Norrie/Ariana scene! I tried to end this chapter without a cliffie so that it will give me more time to complete more chapters. I am still getting over the last of this pneumonia so please bear with me **:D **Anyway, please **R&R**! Thanks!**


	17. The Past Revisited

**AN./ **Sorry the updates are coming slower, and that this chapter and the next few will be so short. This is what I would _definitely _label a filler chapter—but I hope you enjoy it anyway! I got a job and am still working on my original novels, and a some _great _Once Upon a Time fanfics… enough said **:P **But thanks for all of your support! Your reviews are what keep me going!

**My new stories: **The Devil's Mistress and Her Vapor Lover (_OUaT _One-shot) Please check it out if you are a fan of Once Upon A Time! It needs reviews! **:D**

Please **R&R**! Thanks!

~ Silvertongued Dreams

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Seventeen<span>: The Past Revisited**

"Well, now that we are all assured of your safety, Ariana, why don't we all get going?"

I halted in my steps. " '_Going'?_ But, Papa, dear, I just got here!"

"Which is _precisely_ why we need to get going. We are terribly late."

"Terribly late for _what!(?)"_

Steph instantly jumped in to explain. "Um, well, you see, my dear sister, Father has been teasing us mercilessly all morning. He wishes us to meet a certain gentleman… and _he_ will direct us to our new home."

Father promptly raised his index finger. "_Correction,_ my dear Steph—this is an individual of whom we have all had an acquaintance before!" He tried to sound excited, but I could _totally_ see past it.

"But you shall not release the identity of this man, will you, Father," I sighed exasperatedly: resting a hand on my hip.

Father sucked on his teeth. "That is the long and short of it!"

I sighed. I absolutely _hated_ surprises. And, somehow, I had a feeling that this surprise, in particular, was going to be one of the most distasteful of all.

* * *

><p>The entire morning, we were eluded to where we were going, or who it was we were meeting. However, as we trekked arduously up that hill, and an overly luxuriant mansion came into sight, I knew <em>exactly<em> who we were meeting.

As we approached the door, I grimaced.

Not long after, we were ushered into the vacant parlor by a _very_ nervous maid, and I wound my arm in Jenna's as the four of us and the female servant made our way down the long hall, to our destination. We both gulped: hideous, detailed gargoyles loomed over us as though they were going to devour us. Before I had much time to think further on it, though, we reached the parlor, and let out a little breath of relief.

… Even that, however, was to be short-lived.

"_Ah,_ Mr. Ashworth, I see that you made it."

Having been staring at a painting on the wall, when I heard that voice—I closed my eyes in disgust. I remembered it. I remembered it all _too_ well.

Captain Cutler Beckett had been a creature of strange fascination to me at one time. To Father, he had always shown cold civility, while to me—he was a different person _entirely_.

I finally mustered the courage to face him. "Dare you to address my father so informally!(?)"

This response only seemed to give him pleasure, and a small, sly chuckle emerged from the back of his throat as he took my hand into his. "Miss Ariana. Just as charming as I remember."

With an almost reverent gaze, he brought my hand to his lips. "_You are so beautiful—"_ he whispered into my neck: his lips mere centimeters from touching me. I could sense the powerful desire in his tone—and immediately, I stiffened. How could Father allow this man to be so forward with me? Especially when he _knew_ that my heart was with someone else—just not the man he would have supposed.

Beckett stepped back from me, his eyes scanning me liberally. "This is just like the old days back in London." He smiled smarmily: clapping his hands together as a signal for the maid to bring some tea. She came to him, and after receiving an swift, unseen shove when she did not move fast enough, he turned back to us and said: "You all—_you_… are the vision of a past revisited… and the precedent… to a promising future."

_A promising future for _us_ or _you,_ I wonder?(!) _I scoffed to myself: reluctantly taking a seat after receiving a stern look from my father. _Ah, if only James were here,_ I thought to myself, trying to find the perfect mental escape: He_ would make things better. Much, _much better, _indeed._

* * *

><p><strong>Hope this chapter didn't make you think of your grandmother's horrid Brussel sprouts! <strong>xD **Next chapters will be better AND longer: pinky _promise!_  
><em>Please <em>tell me what you liked about this chapter... particularly of the Beckett/Ariana interaction, or whatever really struck you! Thanks!**


	18. A Very Timely Reunion

**AN./ **You know how it works. Review, pirates! LOLz.

This may seem like another filler chapter, but this is leading somewhere. I wanted to give James/Ariana some time to develop a friendship, which means that, somethimes, they're just going to do little ordinary-day things. In any case, though, _please,_ **R&R**! THANKS!

_For the purpose of the story, just assume that Ariana told James her Father's name at some point in-between one of the chappies :D_

**Disclaimer: **I, Silvertongued Dreams, do not, in any way, claim ownership of PotC: only my OC's.

~ Silvertongued Dreams

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Eighteen<span>: A _Very_ Timely Reunion **

Tea was soon brought in, and the room fell silent. The expressions on the occupants of the room, however, were very much _alive_. I could not help but note how Captain Beckett never stopped staring at me, and that made me extremely uncomfortable. _Blast… won't _someone_ say something to break this wretched silence!_

All that could be heard was the occasional scraping of Captain Beckett's spoon against the bottom of his teacup. I was going stir-crazy. More than _anything, _I wanted to leave… and was just about to make that fact known, when the maid came in with an unexpected announcement.

"Captain Beckett, Captain Norrington is here, and he wishes to speak with you."

Beckett looked rather surprised at that declaration, and his eyes widened a bit. "_Really?"_

I hoped that my eyes were not beaming anywhere near as much as I felt they were.

"Why, _yes,_ Master Beckett! That is what I just said," the servant returned: flustered.

Clearly embarrassed, Captain Beckett cleared his throat, and concealed any further emotion by taking a sip of his tea. "Very well. Pray, do tell him to come in."

"Ah, Captain Beckett. Good day," Norrington said smartly as he dipped a polite bow. It was then that he noticed us, and continued: "Oh, I do beg your pardon! I did not know that you had guests."

"That is quite all right, my good Captain Norrington."

"Miss Perrin, how lovely to see you again," James commented, bowing slightly at the waist.

Looking rather confused, Beckett furrowed both his brows together, and held pointed between Norrington and I, using his spoon. "You two know each other?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," I interjected. "James Norrington… saved my life."

Cutler Beckett practically spat his tea back into his teacup, and Jenna stifled a giggle.

Without even noticing what was going on around me, I continued dreamily: "And—if it weren't for _him_… I might not even be here before you, now."

"An exaggeration, I daresay," Norrington flushed. "Lieutenant Gillette was quite involved with your rescue—at _least_ as much as I."

— "Ah, so _you_ are the infamous Captain Norrington!" Father exclaimed: shooting out of his chair. "Thank you so much for all that you have done on the behalf of my dear daughter. She has done nothing but speak highly of you."

Beckett's ears perked up with interest, but he remained silent. Steph silently nudged my elbow so that I would direct my attention that way.

"Aren't you going to ask the good captain to sit down?(!)" Steph exclaimed in surprise. "I swear, you have no manners at all!"

I gingerly placed my fan kerchief in front of my mouth and let out a small giggle.

Beckett could not just brush Steph's accusation aside, and so, he turned slowly towards Norrington, his cheeks a touch crimson: "But of course, Captain, how impolite of me. Pray, would you like some tea?"

Feeling quite uncomfortable, Norrington cleared his throat. "Well, I do not wish to intrude—"

My eyes met his pleadingly. _Please, get me out of here! Please!_

Norrington's lips curled up into a somewhat sly smile, and he began cleverly: "Actually, I cannot stay, as I merely came to inquire about some certain papers that Lord Beckett was supposed to deliver to the admiralty, but he is currently busy, so I shall come back at another time. _However…"_ he broke off, targeting his gaze at me with a certain twinkle in his eyes: "I happened to run across Miss Westfall, Miss Perrin, and she seemed quite desperate for your company." James looked toward my Father: "Pray, would it be wicked of me to steal her away, Lord Ashworth?"

"Actually, it's _Mist_—_" _Beckett corrected, but was cut off.

"Of course not!" Father chattered nervously: downing a sip of his tea with haste. "I trust you will take good care of her."

"Absolutely," Norrington returned. "Miss Perrin, would you like to accompany me?"

"I would be _delighted,"_ I returned: sounding, perhaps, a little over-enthusiastic.

And with that, we were off—simple as that!

Every problem seemed remediable when _he_ was around… as I could not help but notice.

"Miss Westfall did not really ask for me, did she, Captain Norrington?" I smiled knowingly: restraining a chuckle.

"No, she didn't;" he returned, his cheeks flushing a bit. He did not like lying—I could tell by the look on his face that it had been completely against his conscience—but the fact that he had done it for me made me feel special, somehow.

"Then… why did you—" I halted. "Why did you do that for me?"

"I saw that you were a woman and need, and promptly offered what assistance I could to get you out of the situation." He turned his head and struggled to hold back a laugh. "And, Lord, did I pity you! Captain Beckett makes for _terribly dull_ company."

I laughed heartily. "Perhaps… but that 'dullness' was not what was bothering me most," I added in a soft, shy voice as the good captain escorted me down the stairs and onto the cobblestone walkway. "He—he was being rather too attentive. It was making me uncomfortable."

"I daresay, for all that we disagree on, he has a grand taste in women," he said with a smile.

I blushed, and hung my head. "You are too kind, my dear Captain."

* * *

><p>To my great delight—although I was not one who normally enjoyed strolls—Norrington had not brought his horse with him, so we were forced to walk. It was a beautiful day, and the good captain's offer to show me Port Royal took me by great surprise.<p>

"Haven't you more paperwork to file?" I asked.

James smiled mysteriously.

— "Oh, what a quaint little shop!" I exclaimed as soon as our walk had led us into the heart of the Port Royal town.

"Shall we step inside?" James asked, approaching the door and holding it open for me so I could go in.

"Certainly, I replied."

The aura of the room instantly struck me. The powerful scent of tropical spices enveloped me, and I heaved a light sigh.

"Ah, Captain Norrington!" came the voice of a Creole woman with a thick French accent. Within moments, a young woman was before us, wearing semi-ragged clothes that somehow, on her, looked elegant, and she swayed her hips slightly. "What can I do for _ye?"_

Her flirtations stopped, however, when she saw me. "Ah! I see that ye have brought a _lady_ friend."

"A friend, indeed, Miss Cécile—and I should like to show her around your shop, if you don't mind," he returned with a charming smile.

"Take _all _de time ye need, Captain," she smirked slyly.

With those words, we took off to explore—but we did not make it far before I ran headlong into….

"Watch where you're going!" exclaimed the highly excitable voice of a Royal Navy officer, who, flustered, tried to flatten out his uniform overcoat. Once he realized that it was a young woman, he cleared his throat, and apologized: "Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss—"

"Lieutenant Gillette!" I exclaimed: _instantly_ recognizing him.

"Oh, good Lord, Miss Perrin!" Gillette replied with a very nervous chuckle. He lowered his head cautiously, and whispered: "_James _isn't around here, is he?"

"That's still _'Captain'_ to you, Phillip, and yes, I am here," James Norrington returned in faux annoyed tones: an amused smile creeping across his face.

"Oh… good!… because, well… I had some questions to ask about the paperwork you gave to me? See, I…."

Norrington laughed. "_Relax, _old boy. It is good to see you."

"Well, Elanor is helping me remodel the parlor with brighter colors, so she and I, well, were looking for some fancier fabric."

"Is she with you?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," Gillette replied, gesturing to the window in the back of the shop, which was behind him. "She has been there for hours. She cannot seem to decide whether or not rose or yellow would best suit the curtains."

"Miss Perrin, perhaps you would wish to assist her? I must speak with Lieutenant Gillette alone for a moment," Norrington commented with a forced smile. "Gillette, shall we?"

"But of course, old friend," he replied, leaving me to amuse myself.

* * *

><p>"Ah, Elanor!" I cried, tapping her on the shoulder. "Fancy seeing you so soon!"<p>

"Oh, my, dear! How good it is to see you again!" she replied, giving me a hearty hug.

"Captain Norrington was showing me about. Despite its thirst for pirate blood, Port Royal is a charming little town—and little, it truly _is! _Well, that is enough of my excitement. What is up with you?"

Elanor laughed melodically. "Nothing of consequence. But, I can see, with you, that has been far from the case." She nodded to Norrington in the distance. "You are growing quite fond of him, aren't you?"

I blushed, and looked away.

"There is no need to deny it, nor to be ashamed of your feelings. He is a _deserving_ man. He has a good heart—" she broke off emotionally: "as I have seen _many_ a time."

I remained in a reverent silence: I could see that she was in deep thought, and I respected that—and, I could not help but wonder what sorrows had caused the wrinkles to appear on her brow.

I was not left to wonder long, however, for the gentle tap on my shoulder informed me that Gillette was behind me.

"Come, Miss Perrin: Phillip has graciously offered his carriage on the condition that they join us on our grand tour of Port Royal."

"What James has _neglected_ to tell you, however, is that I have invited you and him to dinner this evening."

"I was just _getting_ to that, Phillip," Norrington replied in rather annoyed tones: uncharacteristically rolling his eyes.

"Anyway, can you come?"

"Absolutely," I returned with a broad smile. Then, I turned to Elanor. "Oh, and by the way, I think that you should go with the rose-colored material."

Elanor smiled, and the four of us regrouped to Gillette's carriage. In only a matter of an hour, my afternoon had changed from a dismal and dreary prospect, to something I could greatly look forward to. And _that,_ in itself, was a thing to be celebrated.

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><p><strong>Hope you all enjoyed this little chapter: I was running on fumes, but I did not want to leave you with nothing! <strong>:D **Life is **_**far**_** too busy. Oh, by the way, I just got called up for Jury Duty, first time; I am _suuuuper_ nervous, so PLEASE pray that I do not have to serve! Thanks!**


	19. The Tide Turner

**AN./ **I am _sooooooo _sorry that this poor story has had to endure such a lack of updates! My life is far too busy, and believe me, I would not have it that way if I could change things. I apologize for the distance between updates: when I started this I fully intended to update every week! But, ah, this is life, and life, as it always does, tends to get in the way of things you really want to do. **:P **So, hopefully, now that things are slowing down a bit, I can get back on schedule **:D**

So, I watched CotBP this week, _praying_ that I had not un-obsessed myself! I think that I still am a _bit_ obsessed, thank goodness. But since that is third-favorite out of the movies, perhaps whatever lack of excitement I had was because it was not _DMC… _*evil laugh* That is my favorite one! **:D **I will definitely watch _that one_ as soon as I can.

Please **R&R**, as always, and _keep me motivated! _**:D**

With _lots_ of love,  
>~ Silvertongued Dreams<p>

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Nineteen<span>: The Tide Turner**

"Now, look! See there, Miss Perrin?" Gillette cried exuberantly: practically _leaning_ over me as he pointed out of the coach's open-air window: "That is our local patisserie. I must say, the croissants are _horrid, _but I do so love those éclairs!"

"Oh, Phillip, really!" Norrington exclaimed in disgust. "_Éclairs?(!) _Those things are terrible."

"You eat what you eat, and _I'll eat what _I_ eat!"_ Gillette grumbled in response: crossing his arms and leaning back against the cushions of the carriage with a rather childish, but adorable, pout on his face.

I smiled, and Elanor could scarcely restrain a giggle. Her cousin's antics _never_ seemed to grow old.

His ill-temper only lasted a few moments, however, for it was then that a large and mysterious building that _immediately_ commanded my interest, came into view.

"Oh! What is that?(!)" I exclaimed in awe.

With slight exertion, Norrington leaned forward, and peered out of the window, and sighed.

"Captain? What is it?"

"It is the Mr. Brown's workshop." He looked at me seriously. "He is the Blacksmith."

"My, my! How exciting! I should love to see how a sword is made."

I could tell that this response somewhat displeased him—and though I had no idea why, I was sorry to have caused him any sort of dissatisfaction. But, I could not deny who I was, or my interests, or what I loved to study….

"Carriage, stop here, please," Gillette ordered in a stern tone, and the coach was stopped.

Or rather, it came to a completely abrupt halt. I nearly crashed into a few people, but managed to grab hold of the door right before I catapulted straight into James's lap. _(In retrospect, I think that was a rather stupid decision, but, oh well)._

"Goodness me!" I exclaimed in surprise: placing a hand over my racing heart.

"Miss Perrin, are you quite all right?" Gillette asked with concern as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Yes. Yes, yes, I'm fine! It just startled me, that's all," I panted, trying to catch my breath.

"Well, we can rest a moment until you feel up to exiting the carriage. Meanwhile, James, would you mind assisting Elanor out of the carriage?"

Wordlessly doing as asked, James stepped from the coach, and assisted Miss Westfall out of the carriage. _"Bloody flirt,"_ he muttered angrily—and almost inaudibly—under his breath.

— "I am fine now, Lieutenant Gillette: thank you for staying by me," I smiled weakly.

"Oh, please! It was nothing," he returned, opening the carriage door and helping me out. "You are certain you are recovered enough from your little shock?"

I nodded, not quite sure what to make out of his uncharacteristic behaviour.

It was then that he helped me out of the carriage, and I walked towards the entrance to the shop with Elanor.

"Deucedly fine young lady, wouldn't you say, James?" Gillette remarked to Norrington when Elanor and I were well out of sight.

"Phillip, must you flirt with _every_ young woman you clap eyes on? I cannot even _begin_ to count how many scrapes I have had to get you out of, due to your various romantic entanglements, and how they all ended… _terribly."_

"But, _ah,_ James…" Gillette began, placing a hand on Norrington's shoulder as they walked along together: "I wish to reform my ways. I am finally going to marry and settle down—start a family…."

"And you expect me to take you seriously?" Norrington asked sarcastically. "Gillette, you are like a _brother_ to me, and while you play amongst the ladies of Port Royal, I know that their transparent natures appeal as little to you as they do to me. So, what is this all about?"

"Not _all_ of the ladies of Port Royal are as fickle as you paint them, James," Phillip pointed out: nodding in my direction. Sensing that I was being looked at, I tossed the gentlemen a kind smile, and, to my great delight, I saw James smiling back at me, as broadly as a man of his serious nature would dare. Gillette's eyes twinkled. _His plan was working_.

"Ah, she is lovely!" Gillette proclaimed dramatically: placing a hand over his heart. "I think I am going to try for her. What do you think?"

Knowing that it was in vain, he tried to take a step forward, but not before James clamped a hand firmly on his friend's shoulder: halting him. "You shall do _no_ such thing," he said through gritted teeth.

"Ooh, touched a tender spot, did I?" Gillette prodded: a smirk sprouting across his face. "So sorry."

"A woman's heart is _not_ a thing to be meddled with on a whim!" Norrington argued: the heat rising to his face.

"Oh, don't let us argue, my good friend," Gillette began innocently. "Come, come, they are waiting for us."

"Do not brush this topic off so _lightly,_ Phillip," Norrington practically growled. "I meant every word that I said."

"I know it, my dear James, I _know_ it—but don't think that that is going to stop me."

Infuriated, Norrington walked on ahead, at a much quicker pace than usual: his hands clasped behind his back.

"Miss Perrin, shall we step inside?" he asked in a slightly strained voice: trying to swallow back his frustration from a few moment's before.

A little bemused at his behaviour, I nodded in reply, and took his offered arm, but I said nothing, though I was _itching _to know what troubled him.

_Gillette, meanwhile,_ stood behind, smirking triumphantly. His plan had worked like a charm. Although he had been quite irate with James for not noticing Elanor's affection for him, he had gotten over that, and realized that, more than anything, he wanted to see his friend happily settled down, with a woman who was his equal: a woman who would love him forever and ever.

Then, the day before, he felt his wish had been granted. The sea had given up the most deep and mysterious woman he had ever run across in this part of the world. The one woman that he felt could better James in every respect, and be his perfect other half.

_Now,_ Gillette thought cleverly, _I have to get James to realize that she is the one as well. _

With that thought in mind, he marched confidently through the doors and into the blacksmith's shop: but not before whacking his nose on the wooden hatchet being held by the statue guarding the entrance.

"Owww," he whined: holding his nose as he walked in: which resulted in a rather odd-sounding voice when he spoke next. "I think I just broke my nose!"

* * *

><p>The building was dark, but not without interest. Above, gears churned loudly, and I could see a burro walking around in endless circles to keep the machine going.<p>

"This is fascinating!" I exclaimed out of the blue. "Now, what do those gears operate?"

"I honestly haven't the slightest idea, Miss Perrin—that is a question best asked to Mr. Brown."

"—Mr. Brown is 'indisposed' at the moment… but, can I be of any assistance?" came an uncommonly gentle, but masculine voice from behind me. Slowly, I turned around.

My eyes met with a handsome, well-built man with bronzed skin that was thick with sweat. His shoulder-length, brown-black hair had a slightly greasy sheen, but all of that was excusable to me, for one look at him told me that he was a good, hard-working soul, and a kind one at that.

"H—How do you do! I am Miss Ariana Perrin," I curtsied: treating him with the utmost respect, even though he was of a far lower class than myself.

"Miss Perrin," he returned in a humbled tone.

"Miss Perrin, this is William Turner… the… _blacksmith's _apprentice," Norrington announced bitterly: his voice thick with regret, as though trying to forget a distant memory that, somehow, involved the man standing before us.

"Charmed, I am sure," I smiled kindly. "So… how many of these swords do you make yourself?" I asked out of curiosity.

"A few," he returned hesitantly: not wishing to put himself forward with pride, and admit to the _clear _fact that he, indeed, crafted them _all_. "And I practice with them… three hours a day."

I raised my eyebrows and nodded. "Impressive. Very, _very_ impressive!"

"You are too kind," he returned with a small smile.

"—So, Mr. Turner, Miss Perrin is new to Port Royal, and she was rather hoping that Mr. Brown would show her around the smithy. However, since he is not available—" Norrington began stiffly, but was cut off.

"If you all can wait a spell, I am almost done with my work. I would be more than happy to show the new Miss around."

With a light sniffle, Will reached for a 30-pound sack of dirt, and slapped it onto the table before moving on.

Cautiously, Elanor stepped towards me, smiling softly as she whispered: "He is a rather handsome sort, isn't he? Good, strong worker…"

"I suppose," I returned: watching the muscular young man at work—his brownish-black hair flinging into his eyes as his half-unbuttoned tattered canvas shirt billowed in the little breeze streaming in through the window. "But… _I_… prefer the more cultured type. A man with a stunning intellect, that can work well with his hands… but is not restricted to them. A man… much like our good Captain, for example."

Somewhere behind me, I could sense that James was smiling. And I could not help but dare to hope that that smile was meant for me… and me alone.

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><p><strong>Yay! Will is now in the story, and the next chapter will continue from where we left off here. Perhaps, if you wish hard enough, there will even be a swordfight! <strong>xD


	20. Take It Up a Notch

**AN./** YES! And I am back again with another chapter! I hope that you all had a good Easter.

Be prepared for some _very _delicious fluff! I'll give a virtual piece of strawberry cheesecake to anyone who reviews! So, please, **R&R! **Thanks!

With love,  
>~ Silvertongued Dreams<p>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Twenty<span>:** **Take It Up a Notch**

I was almost afraid to turn around, and ruin the moment. Perhaps James _hadn't_ smiled at me. After all, what was so exciting about _me?(!)_

I must have been silent for quite some time, for I was surprised when Elanor nudged me in the shoulder. "Are you all right, dear?"

I gasped lightly. "Oh, fine. Fine. Just getting a bit lost in thought, I guess," I finished sheepishly.

"—Well, if you are all ready, I can give the tour that you were desirous of," Will Turner began: his crystal-clear voice ringing exhilaratingly through the air.

"Thank you, Mr. Turner! We are all much-obliged to you for taking time off of your work schedule to show us around."

"It is not a problem—trust me!" William laughed, although, I could sense a tone of disgust in his voice. "Mr. Brown—he will not mind in the slightest."

I furrowed my brow in confusion, and that is when Phillip leaned in and whispered: _"He's_ _a _drunk, _poor old sod."_

"_Ah,"_ I muttered under my breath.

"So, where would you like to start? The topic of sword-forging can be rather dull for certain… _ladies_._"_

"Oh, not to me!" I piped in excitedly. All eyes turned towards me, and I blushed hot red. "I—well… am quite _fascinated_… by weaponry."

"Then, you shall have your fill of information, I can assure you!" he smiled, moving on ahead, with the rest of us following after him.

I was absolutely _delighted_. I had never had a chance to see a smithy before, or learn, firsthand, how a sword was crafted—all I had learned had been from book study alone, and I knew that only _half_ of the information stored in books was not tainted by fantastic elaborations on the actual facts.

Will's tour proved to be very enlightening. Completely engrossed in all that I was hearing, I was surprised when Mr. Turner came to a halt.

"—So, what do you think?" Will asked, his arms crossed.

"Fascinating! Utterly, _utterly_ fascinating!" I exclaimed, clapping my hands together, once. "Thank you very much for showing me around!"

"—_Mr. Turner,"_ Norrington's stern voice broke in all of a sudden: "I believe that, as… _intriguing_ as your tour has been, you have failed to mention one of the key aspects one should look for when inspecting if a sword is well-crafted or not."

Will raised his brow in surprise. "And what aspect is that, my good captain?"

Wordlessly, James walked up to one of the sword racks, and withdrawing it, announced, with a melodramatic swoosh of the weapon: "_Performance."_

"Absolutely," Will returned with a pleased smirk. "And, I can assure you, that the swords crafted in this workshop are the finest in Port Royal."

"Is that so?" James challenged.

"Indeed, they are! And I can prove it, if you so wish."

"Excellent! I challenge you to a duel!" Norrington replied: trying to sound as intimidating as possible.

"Very well! I accept!" Will shouted back: trying to look equally as intimidating. I swear, I could not believe what was happening.

"Out back. Five minutes. _I will be waiting,"_ Norrington returned in a low hiss as he folded his hands behind his back and marched out of the door.

Not quite sure what to make of things, I followed in suit: puzzled at James's competitive side. I knew that he believed Mr. Turner to be the finest blacksmith in all of Port Royal, so—why was he so desperate to prove otherwise? It was almost as if he had something against the kindly young apprentice: something that had lain, almost forgotten, in James's heart, for quite some time… that is, until this day.

"Why are you challenging him?" I asked bluntly: the pitch of my voice rising a little.

"Oh, just a friendly little challenge. Something to keep the suspense going," Norrington replied: brushing off my question _completely_ as he thrust aside his uniform overcoat and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

"Then why do I have the strange feeling that you are lying to me?(!)"

James turned to me sharply, and then, I realized how wrong I was to have said such a horrid thing. Those iridescent jade green eyes instantly lost their glimmer, and I immediately felt horrible.

"I—I am sorry. That was rather harsh. I apologize."

Only a moment later, I felt a hand cradle my chin. "You perceive things about me that no one else has. _I—"_ He paused, looking around to make certain that no one was listening in on what he had to say. "I need you to trust me for now. But I promise you… I will reveal everything to you later. Will you trust me?"

I smiled broadly. "You need not ask me such a question, James Norrington. I will trust you… _in everything."_

Easier said than done, as I would have to learn the hard way….

* * *

><p>The match was set. Will stood across from James, eyes set determinedly, and sword extended. James, looking rather handsome, wore a smug smirk: his sword tickling Will's blade testily. It was almost as though he could <em>taste<em> victory.

"On your mark, Captain," said Will.

"_Gladly,"_ James growled competitively. "Ready…"

"Set…"

"_Go_…_!"_

As quick as a blink, the two were at each other. One could not _really_ say who lunged first, but the blend of Will's passion and James's skill was elegant, and perfect.

"Such fire in your swordplay, Mr. Turner! Tell me, what are you thinking of?(!)" James demanded as he heaved a laborious breath.

"You _know_ what I am thinking of—or, should I say… _who_ I am thinking of," Will returned with a dramatic thrust of his sword.

Norrington parried with flawless timing: pushing Turner's sword off to the side, so it then rested on his shoulder blade. "Elizabeth is not a mere 'woman', Mr. Turner… she is special!" Norrington spun around, whacking Will's blade hard, which sent sizzling sparks flying through the air. "Oh, and by the way, it's _'whom'_—not _'who'."_

"Of course she's special! Do you really think I don't see that?" Will asked with an incredulous snort. "You callous, unthinking…"

"Let's keep the tension in the swordplay, shall we?" Norrington asked with a smarmy smirk and a critically raised eyebrow.

As I looked on, I was immensely curious as to what made these two agreeable men disdain each other so.

_Time for a little friendly gossip,_ I told myself, edging a bit closer to Elanor Westfall as I flicked out the decorative Oriental fan that the young miss had presented as a gift to me only a little while earlier. "Elanor… are you seeing what _I_ am seeing?"

"A extremely handsome Royal Navy officer cutting some fantastic moves?" As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she gasped, and I laughed.

"Ah, secretly admiring him, are we?(!)" I commented with a giggle.

Elanor blushed hotly. "Well, actually, it's not such a secret anymore… to _him_ anyway…."

I swallowed hard. _Oh, dear God, I have fallen for a taken man. _Trying not to show the jealousy bubbling within me, I cleared my throat and fanned myself. "So… you two are an item?" I dreaded her response, and knew that if she replied with a 'Yes', I could not lay eyes on him without feeling some form of guilt as I looked at him: his translucent white shirt sticking to his back with sweat. _Thank God for small favors,_ I thought to myself, temporarily forgetting that I was waiting for a response from Elanor that could either make or _break_ my day.

— "Oh, no, no… goodness, no," she returned in a soft, almost inaudible whisper, and she let out a nervous titter, as if she were ashamed. "James could never think of me in such a way. I mean—ah, well, I'd best not burden you with the details."

I was pleased enough with that. At least my little infatuation could go on a bit longer, unimpaired by jealousy.

As our conversation died into silence, my attention was once again directed towards the duel. Sadly, however, it lasted only a few moments longer.

It was a hard to thing to watch—in a moment of distraction, Will gained the upper hand on Norrington, and caught him in a place where there was no escape. Sighing with defeat, James slowly raised his hands in an act of surrender, and, a few moments later, he came striding towards us: a frustrated—but dignified—look on his face as he went to retrieve his uniform overcoat.

"I take it that you didn't win?" Elanor asked knowingly.

"Correct," he returned bitterly.

"But, ah, he bested you _only_ because of a moment's distraction. You _would_ _have_ won," I interjected encouragingly.

"I thank you for your vote of confidence, Miss Perrin, but Mr. Turner is a worthy adversary." Norrington turned around, looking at the young blacksmith with a restrained snivel.

" 'Worthy', perhaps…" I smiled, "but… not _unbeatable."_

This seemed to cheer him up a bit. _Yes, I did it!_ I thought proudly to myself.

"Blast it," Norrington sighed after a few moments had passed.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I can't button it up," he returned with a slight flush. "My hands are all sweaty after that heated duel."

"Understandable," I chuckled. "Would you like me to help you?"

Elanor raised her eyebrows at my offer, but said nothing.

James _knew_ that he needed to swallow his pride. "Yes, please," he finally managed.

I wore a victorious smirk as I leaned forward, slightly into him, and buttoned his overcoat. I could feel his warm breath—and knew that an opportunity to be this close to him was not going to happen very often.

"Promise me you'll tell me about what happened between you and Mr. Turner," I whispered into his ear as I straightened out his collar.

"I promise," he returned reassuringly. "And, I can assure you, that my promises are always kept."

There seemed to be a sliver of playfulness in his voice, and I smiled. Of _course_ he was a man of his word: I could see that already.

* * *

><p><strong>Ta-da! Well, there is the swordfight I promised! I hope that you all enjoyed, and will leave a review. Have a great rest of your week! I love you guys!<strong>


	21. Like the Voices in the Wind

**AN./** This chapter is a personal favorite of mine! Please sit back, relax, and enjoy some hard-earned fluff! Please **R&R. **Thanks!

Oh, and did I happen to mention that I bought a period-piece fan yesterday? I have an _immense_ respect for the women who had to flick those dang things open in that ever-so-fancy way we see in these period-drama movies! I tried it for a whole hour and could not do it for the _life_ of me! ROFL.

~ Silvertongued Dreams

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Twenty-One<span>: Like the Voices in the Wind**

After saying our farewells, we departed from the Mr. Brown's smithy, and, once again thanked Will for his tour. With a smile on my face, I took Captain Norrington's offered arm, and we made for the carriage.

My lightheartedness somewhat dissipated, however, when I looked at James once again. Although he said nothing, I could tell that there was some internal struggling going on. He had taken his defeat rather badly.

As he assisted me into the carriage, I remained as silent as I possibly could. I did not wish to appear insensitive to him.

"There you are, Miss Perrin," he uttered with a forced smile as he helped me into the coach.

I hesitated. I so wanted to ask him what was going on, but was afraid of opening his old wound too far. "J—James?" I stammered—then, immediately realizing that I had addressed him by his first name, my cheeks turned bright red. "Oh, Captain Norrington, I am _so_ sorry…."

"No, don't be," he smiled warmly. "I should _like_ you to call me James. That is—that is, if I can call you Ariana," he added quickly.

Quickly, I pressed a hand over my racing heart. _Oh, my goodness! He said my name… and so beautifully! Oh, dear Lord, I feel so faint! _

Stunned, I tried to regain a normal breathing pattern. "But of course, Captain."

"_James,"_ he corrected with a small smile.

Within a few moments, he was sitting across from me in the carriage, and Gillette and his cousin, who had not managed to tear themselves away from the magnificent sword display in the smithy, did not seem as though they were going to be joining us anytime soon.

For a moment, there was only silence between myself and the good captain. Then, unexpectedly, he scoffed.

"What?" I asked, somewhat startled.

"Oh, it is nothing," he returned, crossing his legs as he leaned his head against the cushioned wall of the carriage: trying to hide a smile as he looked straight at me.

I knew he was looking at me, but I could not stand the thought of him knowing that, so I hung my head. Feeling bashful and rather fidgety all of a sudden, I flicked out my fan and fanned myself lightly. It was getting rather hot in here!

Well, it was hot as soon as James had entered the carriage. I smirked wickedly despite myself.

"So, Miss Perrin…."

"_Ariana,"_ I corrected with a slight blush.

He laughed softly, and nodding, began again: "So, _Ariana…_ are you still curious as to why Mr. Turner and I do not get along?"

"There certainly was tension—if not animosity—between you both," I remarked softly. "I cannot help but admit to _some_ curiosity."

Cautiously, James looked over at the smithy, and saw that Elanor and Gillette were still engaged in a lively conversation with Mr. Turner. With a somewhat heavy sigh, he looked towards me once again, and said: "Very well, then. I shall do my best to relieve your curiosity."

"Thank you," I replied in a whisper. I could sense that this would be a difficult—but much needed conversation for him. One look at him, and I _knew_ that he had kept these feelings pent up inside for _far_ too long. I could only hope that if he could talk to me, it could somewhat alleviate his pain.

"It all started some seven years back," James said. "I was a young lieutenant then—scarcely one-and-twenty. My father, Sir _Lawrence_ Norrington, had always been a _hard_ man… and as such, sent me away as a cabin boy in the King's Royal Navy when I was twelve. Ever since then, I had fought to survive—to rise quickly in the ranks, so as to make my father proud.

"When I was told that my post would be moved to the _Dauntless,_ I was elated. That would finally be my chance to be something. It was a rather prestigious ship with a grand reputation, and I was honoured to be a part of this 'special voyage' I was selected for." Here, he swallowed.

"What was the voyage for?" I asked.

"It was a secret voyage from England to the Caribbean: our sole mission to deliver Port Royal's newly-appointed Governor Swann and his young daughter, Elizabeth—" His voice faltered a moment, and he had to clear his throat to alleviate his watering eyes: "—And his young daughter, Elizabeth, to their new home. Well, on the way, we ran into some difficulties.

"Just as we entered into Caribbean waters, we saw it. The burning hull of a devastated ship. One of the ship's crew—a man going by the name of Joshamee Gibbs—suggested that it had had been the work of pirates. At the time I dismissed it, but as I look back, now, I think he was right.

"Miss Elizabeth had been looking over the prow when, all of a sudden, we heard her cry out that she saw a boy in the water, floating on some of the wood from the wreckage. Immediately, we jumped into action: grappling hooks were lowered, and the boy was rescued. His name… was _William Turner."_

"Oh, good Lord!" I gasped. "So, you saved his life!"

"Yes, I did. But…."

"Yes?" I asked gently.

"Elizabeth and I… had grown rather close," he admitted. "Such a bright young woman. Talented, capable… and, although only ten years old at the time, I could see that, someday, she would make a very fine wife for someone, one day.

"Unfortunately, from that day on, Elizabeth became quite fond of Mr. Turner. As they were only a few years apart in age, they grew very close—and their relationship continued to blossom long after we had reached our destination. They would spend almost every waking hour together—and, oftentimes, Miss Swann would forget that I was to come calling, and would miss my visits entirely.

"About two years ago, the Governor sent her off to a boarding school in London, hoping that she would forget about Mr. Turner all together, and would learn how to be a 'proper' young lady. I wished for her not to feel alone, so, like a good friend, I wrote to her at least once a week, telling her that I was there for her if ever she needed to share her thoughts or experiences at school. Everything was fine for the first few weeks… and, then… the letters just stopped coming. I assumed that she must be busy with her studies, and while a bit wounded at the neglect of my friend, the Governor let slip that she had been writing to him, and… that… _blacksmith."_

"I can't imagine how betrayed you must have felt," I put forth sympathetically.

"Yes, well—" James halted, forcing a smile for my benefit. "It cannot be helped, I suppose."

"Have you tried to write to her recently?" I asked.

"I—no, I can't say that I have," Norrington admitted after a moment. "Things… would be rather awkward, after so long a time…."

"If you two truly are friends, my good captain, then nothing can ever remain awkward. There might be rough patches, but things can always be mended. _Always."_

Norrington smiled at me warmly… and for a moment, I thought that something delightful might—_just possibly_—happen….

… But, then we heard Elanor's voice coming closer.

"Oh, come along, Gilly!" she called to her cousin.

"_God!_ You know how much I _hate_ it when you call me that!" Gillette whined: not liking it when his elegant and worthy last name was abbreviated to sound like nothing more than common girl's name.

"Ah, but it gets your attention, doesn't it?(!)" Elanor returned with a victorious smirk as she watched her cousin cower under her playful stare.

"I—I guess you've got a point there," he shrugged, laughing lightly as they entered into the carriage.

Neither Miss Westfall or Gillette paid us much heed as they filed into the carriage. I think Gillette might have said something to me in passing, but I could not really tell. I was so moved by what James had shared with me… that I could not really concentrate on anything going on around me. I could not draw my gaze away from James's face—that kind, handsome, heroic face: the face that had changed my life in so many remarkable ways, already.

The ride back to Lord Beckett's mansion seemed long, dismal, and dull. After all of the exploring we had done, Elanor and Phillip had fallen asleep. But not James. James, no—he was too deep in thought: staring morosely out of the carriage window. Would he look at me?

I sighed heavily as I settled back in my seat: closing my eyes. And it was then, when he thought I wouldn't hear him, that I heard it.

"_Thank you, _Ariana," James whispered softly.

Contented, I smiled gently as the unchanging rhythm of the moving carriage lulled me into a restful sleep. For _so long,_ James had kept his feelings bottled up inside—and now, he had had some sort of release from all of the pain he had locked away from everyone. And, for the first time in years, he had finally opened himself up to someone.

I purred lightly as I reclined against the carriage wall. Just like the voices in the wind, James Norrington was a mystery. A mystery… that I was certain… could be unraveled.

* * *

><p><strong>So, what did you think? I particularly loved this chapter—things are <strong>_**finally**_** moving forward! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this as much as **_**I**_** did!**


	22. Those Strange, Hidden Glances

**AN./ **A _huge_ plot bunny is going to be manifesting itself soon, so keep an eye out on the next few chapters. Ariana's family and Beckett will also become more prevalent to the story, which will make things _far_ more interesting for you all.

Thank you all so much! I never expected to make it this far. Now, thanks to your reviews, 'My Once in a Lifetime' is currently the 3rd most_ popular_ Norrington/OC story on this site—surpassed only by 'Bitterly Ever After', and 'Mirror, Mirror'! So, to all of my faithful reviewers, Yo Ho Ho, and a Bottle of Rum for the victory! *Cheers* I couldn't have done it without you! And, Yarah, thanks again for being the 200th reviewer!

Please **R&R**! Thanks!

God bless,  
>~ Silvertongued Dreams<p>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Twenty-Two<span>: Those _Strange,_ Hidden Glances**

I actually managed to sleep the whole rest of the way back to Cutler Beckett's mansion. Then, I awoke—it was as if my body sensed the ominous darkness that loomed over the wealthy captain's estate as we approached.

"We are almost there," James said in a sullen voice.

My pearl-drop earrings dangled wildly back and forth: bobbing up and down as our carriage went over a deep rut in the dirt road.

I wanted very urgently to speak to James again before we were rejoined with the others. Like he had taken me into his confidence, I wanted to show him that I trusted him as well. "J—James?"

My voice was like a fell whisper: fading away into the cold air as our carriage stopped abruptly.

— "Oh, merciful heavens!" Elanor exclaimed: bolting upright as she placed a hand on her forehead. "We are here already?"

"Yes, my dear Miss Westfall—you feel asleep," Norrington returned with a wane smile.

"Thank you for bringing me back," I returned, trying to hide my disappointment at not being able to talk with him further. With those words, I slowly began to open the carriage door, but a hand placed on top of mine instantly stopped me.

I looked up, confused. It was James.

Smiling, he opened the door himself, and said: "Why, Miss Perrin—it would be _impolite_ to say the least, were I to let you disembark without aid." With those words, he alighted gracefully from the carriage, and held out his hands to me. I blushed. I knew that this was a common gentlemanly procedure, but to have James cater to me in this fashion was very appealing to me.

With a smile, I stepped out carefully, and he caught me by the waist. For a moment, he just… held me. I could feel my heart stop as our gazes met. Those penetrating, jade green eyes of his—they must have held some sort of spell over me….

"James! Hurry, for the love of all that's holy! We need to get out, as well, you know!" Phillip scolded.

"Oh, dear. I am so sorry," he returned, clearing his throat embarrassedly as he broke from our little moment and placed me rather abruptly on the cobblestone walkway.

As Captain Norrington backed away, Elanor exited the carriage, and James helped her down. Gillette alighted last, looking rather put-out.

"Well… thank you so much for the use of your carriage! I have enjoyed my tour of Port Royal immensely," I returned with a slight, _slight_ twinkle in my eye. "But, now, I must depart."

"Pray, let us escort you inside," Gillette offered.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed excitedly.

With that, we all went in.

* * *

><p><em>The place was surprisingly barren<em>. I was surprised. It had not been even two hours since we had left my family having tea with Captain Cutler Beckett, and already, the place was vacated. Where could they all be?

"Well, _this_ is strange," I sighed, annoyed. "They should still be here! We were not _gone_ for long."

"Don't worry, my dear. We'll find them, I promise," Gillette comforted: slapping a comforting hand on my shoulder.

To my great surprise, James said absolutely nothing, instead, he was staring intently into the distance. It was then that I followed his gaze.

Standing in front of the staircase was a man—a very _eerie_ man, dressed entirely in black. I swear, if the Devil had a twin, it would have been him.

I gulped loudly, realizing that the man was looking _right _at me.

"They're gone," he said in a low, dark voice: flicking his small dagger against a piece of rotted wood. "I was sent here to retrieve you."

Instinctively, James gripped onto my hand, and I snuck a small smile. He was being so protective… and that fact was undeniably… _sweet._

"We would first know your name, sir—to verify your story," James said in a rather harsh, commanding tone.

"Ah! You must be Captain Norrington," the man said with a sniveling snort that did not escape my notice. "I have heard many great things about you."

"Your… _name,"_ Gillette insisted: gathering his cousin closer as he stepped closer to James and me. For all we knew, he could be a murderous intruder—and from the general vibe he gave, I would not have been surprised if such was the case.

The man chuckled evilly. "Oh, why such hostility?(!)" He stepped closer: his black-gloved hand extending to shake mine. "My name is Ian Mercer. I am Lord Beckett's personal aide."

Ever so hesitantly, I took his hand and shook it. Content that he had 'won' me over, he backed away, and cradled my hand. After touching him, I felt _so _filthy! "L—Lord?" I stammered in confusion.

"Why, _yes,"_ the man called Mercer smiled smarmily. "Did you not hear? He has been unexpectedly… _promoted_._"_

Norrington scoffed almost silently, and Gillette looked at him, his eyes wide with surprise. "Yes. Unexpected _indeed."_

— "Well, if we are all done introducing ourselves, then I suggest that we reconvene at the house that Lord Beckett has provided for Miss Ariana and her family's stay," Mercer broke in. Then, clapping his hands together sharply, (which made me jump!), he ordered sternly: "Follow me!"

Afraid to do anything other than obey him, I did as he said, and the four of us followed on behind the shady Mr. Mercer.

"_Well, of _all_ the unfair atrocities! James! You have been working so hard this year! It is _you_ who should have been promoted!" _Gillette exclaimed in an outraged whisper.

"_I am sure the King had his reasons,"_ James replied, trying as hard as he could to find a reasonable explanation for this slap in the face. But, try as he might, he could find nothing whatsoever to justify why Cutler Beckett, a man who had never worked outside of his office a day in his life, had been promoted instead of him—or any _other_ hardworking Royal Navy officer, for that matter. _"However slim they might be."_

* * *

><p>Only ten minutes later, we found ourselves in a humble house, not much more than a cottage—except it had two stories.<p>

"Oh, how quaint!" I exclaimed with delight.

The small house almost looked like something out of a fairytale, or a picture book. Perfectly shingled, the building lay nestled in a grassy bluff on the far side of the beach—right on the water.

For some reason, looking at that house that would soon become my home made me think of iced cupcakes and ginger tea. Painted white and rose-pink, there was a happy glow to the place—much helped by the window boxes that held red and yellow pansies. All in all, I could see myself liking this place quite a bit. And, then, I found that I didn't _really_ hate Lord Beckett as much as I had before. _After all, he can't be _all_ bad if he was giving us this beautiful place to live in! _Right,_ Ariana?_

Before I even had a chance to attempt answering my question, Mercer stepped in front of me. "This way, Miss Ariana."

Within a few moments, we were actually inside. I could see that it had been finely furnished, and like the outside of the house, it was a very _welcoming _place—very unlike Cutler Beckett's residence. The carpets were pure white, and the pictures hanging on the walls practically sparkled. The place had been prepared especially… for _us_.

I could already see that what few belongings my family had brought to the Caribbean had been brought in, and that was when I saw them.

My writing instruments: sitting on the window sill, just like they would have been at home.

I could not help but let myself sneak a small, warm smile as I glided over to the window-seat.

Gazing out of the _large _bay window, I let my imagination soar. Never before, in my entire life, had I seen such a gorgeous view.

"—Ah! Miss Ariana, there you are," came the voice of Lord Beckett. Startled, I practically jumped out of my skin.

"Greetings, Lord Beckett."

"Ah, so you know?" he asked in a rather sullen voice.

"Yes. Your man Mercer told me," I returned, breathing quickly.

Beckett walked over closer to the window, and stared out as if lost in thought. "Sad thing, really. I didn't want to have to take your father's title, but he left me with… _no choice_._"_

My eyes widened with horror as his gaze finally dared to meet mine, and I felt myself feeling rather odd. Any grateful feelings that I had had towards him, in that moment, fled away. _See? I just _knew_ that he was no good. He has _always_ been no good,_ I chided, mentally slapping myself in the face. _He has always been creepy_—_with those _strange,_ hidden glances._

I could only hope that James, Elanor, and Phillip had not overheard my conversation with Beckett. The humiliation was already too much for me to bear.

"You arrogant dog! To think that I even fancied you a nice man for a moment!" I exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "You are nothing more than a pampered aristocrat who has _never _worked a day on this Earth, and, in an instant, will glady take an honest man's life's work away from him—for nothing but your _own,_ selfish gain!"

A wicked smile played across Beckett's face. My angry response only seemed to give the man some _twisted_ form of pleasure.

"Oh, but you should be _thanking me,_ Ariana!" he returned with a sneaky smile. "Why, if it weren't for _me…_ your worthless little family would be on the streets, and your _Father_—_" _Cutler scoffed with delight. "Why, he would be in the poor house, begging for whatever he could get!" He sniveled at me with those filthy, deceitful eyes of his as he ran his gaze over me, then, ever so slowly, he leaned into my neck, and whispered: "_He would be a _disgrace_ to you."_

"No more than you are to me _now,"_ I returned bitterly: raising my hand to slap him.

Fortunately, though, James, who had been looking on in confusion, stepped in between us. "Miss Ariana, is Lord Beckett bothering you?"

At this rather poignant question, I turned to Norrington: my slightly curled hair bobbing up in down. "No, no, Captain Norrington. We were just… _resolving_ some issues that needed discussing."

Beckett smiled evilly, but that seemed to escape James's notice.

"Come along, now, _dear_—_"_ Beckett began smarmily as he placed a hand on the small of my back: "Let's reunite you with your family. Then, we shall tour the house all together!"

Once James we were far enough away, Beckett's grip on me tightened. "Now, do _exactly_ as I say. After all… I practically _own_ you."

And with that, he pushed me down the hallway.

"G—Goodbye, James!" I stammered as I disappeared out of sight.

"Good… _bye," _Norrington returned: his voice dying away disappointedly as he saw the last of my skirt brushing against the carpet, and I vanished out of his sight.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ooh! <strong>_**What could Beckett possibly have meant by his last comment to Ariana?(!) Will Norrington and Ariana see each other again soon? And what will Ariana do now that she realizes that Beckett is the reason for her Father's downfall?**

**BTW, did you know that Mercer's real canon name _is_ Ian? I only found all this out a little while ago! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	23. Expelled

**AN./ **Well, today, I am offering you something a little different—something that will _help_ move story forward. I hope that you enjoy it! And, please, **R&R**! Thank you!

Much love,  
>~ Silvertongued Dreams<p>

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Twenty-Three<span>: Expelled**

"Take it back!" came the shrieking scream of an out-of-control sixteen-year-old girl.

This day was an unusually exciting one for the girls who attended the fine London academy, Mrs. Canterbury's Finishing School for Girls. Although the day started off _dull,_ as it normally did, but then, one of the resident students made the mistake of bashing the father of the wealthiest young lady in the school.

… And that young lady just so _happened_ to be… Elizabeth Swann, daughter of the governor of Port Royal, Jamaica.

"Oh, just suck it up, Elizabeth!" the other girl taunted: smiling evilly as a trail of sticky red blood coursed down from her lower lip. "I'm not afraid of _you."_

"Really? Well, you _should _be!" the wily and rebellious young Miss Swann replied angrily: landing another ferocious punch in the girl's face. "Give it up, Prudence!"

"Never!" she shrieked. "Everyone knows that your father is a spoiled aristocrat who has had to lie and cheat his way to the top!"

"Liar!" Elizabeth screamed: slapping the girl in the face. "Oh, by the way, did I ever tell you that I know a farm pig named Prudence?"

Prudence sneered irately. "I _hate_ you!"

"Oh, good!" Elizabeth laughed. "Because I hate _you!"_

Prudence's cheeks burned a wild red, and she returned a punch. "You spoiled little selfish prig!"

Elizabeth punched her once again. "Why, I ought to—"

— "GIRLS!" came the sudden, terrified cry of Mrs. Canterbury, manager of the school. "Desist at once!"

"But she _started_ it!" Elizabeth began desperately: pointing at Prudence. "She called my father a liar and a cheat!"

"Honestly, Miss Swann, you should know better!" Mrs. Canterbury scolded: leering at her. "Miss Prudence, here, does not come from as fortunate a position as you do. It is of the utmost importance that you treat her with respect."

"But—_but…!"_

"Ah! No 'buts', young Missy!" Mrs. Canterbury exclaimed, dragging Elizabeth behind her as they headed to the principal's office.

As the governor's daughter disappeared out of sight, Prudence smiled victoriously. _At last…_ she had had the final word.

* * *

><p>When Mrs. Canterbury shoved Elizabeth Swann into the principal's office, the headmaster did not seem surprised. He merely sighed, and routinely gestured to the chair in front of his desk.<p>

With a stiff upper lip, Mrs. Canterbury exited the room.

"Oh, Elizabeth," the headmaster sighed after the elderly woman was out of sight. "What did you do _this_ time?"

"I am so sorry, Mr. Canterbury. I know how much you hate it when your mother drags me in here. Honestly, I really didn't mean to get into any trouble! But, you see, one of the students—"

"_Let me guess,"_ the principal interjected. "Prudence has something to do with this."

Elizabeth smirked wryly. "You know me too well."

"No, unfortunately, I know _her_ too well," the principal replied with a slight laugh. "You know, I would not still be principal for this school if it weren't so important to my mother. Prudence has caused quite a bit of trouble for me over the years, _but,_ unfortunately, you seem to be a magnet to her evil accusations and remarks. That being said…" He sighed heavily.

"What, Mr. Canterbury?" Elizabeth asked: a flicker of concern in her eyes.

"This is the third time this term you have been brought into my office. While I believe you—that you did not start whatever argument landed you in here—I am afraid that this school will not tolerate anymore of these goings-on."

"_Meaning?" _Elizabeth prodded.

"Meaning…" he sighed yet again, "that… you are to be expelled. Indefinitely."

Elizabeth gasped. "_I beg your pardon!(?)"_

* * *

><p>Only a few hours later, Elizabeth found herself in her quarters, packing her possessions. It seemed so surreal. Two years ago, when she was only fourteen years old, she had found herself at this desolate place: away from anything and <em>anyone<em> that she was familiar with. When her father had first sent her away to Mrs. Canterbury's Finishing School for Girls, she had been anything but excited. But, now… she was almost _sorry_ to see the back of it.

The founder's thirty-year-old son, who also happened to be the principal of the school, had been very kind to her over the years. In many ways, she felt like she was at home when she was with him: with that kindly glimmer in his eyes and protocol-driven demeanor, he reminded her of her old friend, James Norrington.

_James,_ she thought to herself. _My God, how I have neglected him. He must think I hate him. Especially if he knows that I have been writing to _Will_ all of this time…._

"Thinking about something, Miss Swann?" came a voice out of the blue.

With a light gasp, Elizabeth swiveled around. It was the principal.

"I _do _hope that you know I'm sorry to see you go," he admitted with a wry smile.

"Yes, I know," she returned in a soft murmur. "You have always stood up for me."

"Alas, though, my mother was catching on to it," the principal chuckled: but then, his face became all serious. He realized that this was probably the last time he was ever going to see her—so, in order to hide his sadness, he changed the subject: "I, erm… thought that you might like this to remember all of us by."

With those words, Mr. Canterbury extended a small book towards her. "I know how much you love to read. It is one of my personal favourites."

Not saying a word, Elizabeth took the book, and examined the name on the binding. " 'Gulliver's Travels'?(!)"

The principal laughed at her enthusiasm. "Yes, I know how long you have been wishing for a copy. Well, hopefully, you shall enjoy reading it as much as I have."

"I—Is this _your_ copy?" Elizabeth inquired in a quaky voice: deeply touched.

His only response was a weak smile. "Come here, you," he said in a choked voice: enveloping her in a tight embrace. "Promise you won't forget me?"

"_I promise," _she replied sincerely: adding in a soft whisper: "And I do not give my word lightly." *

* * *

><p>In only a matter of hours, Elizabeth was at the port, ready to board a vessel headed for Port Royal . It was going to be difficult—being a sixteen-year-old girl sailing half-way across the world all on her own, but she was game for the adventure. Unlike most young ladies of her high social standing, she had <em>spirit<em>. A spirit that leapt at an opportunity like this.

No matter what lay in store, Elizabeth Swann was ready for it. For when she was on the sea, she felt like a queen, ready to take on… the world.

* * *

><p><em><strong>* And I do not give my word lightly. <strong>_**Can anyone tell me where else Elizabeth says this in the movies? Which movie was it, who did she say the line to, and what scene (in-movie** or** deleted) was it? As an added bonus: the first person to get this question right will get a story endorsement in the AN of my next chapter! Now, everyone**—_**no**_** cheating! Get to work, pirates! **:D


	24. A Study in Chess

**AN./ **Hello everyone! Back with another chapter. But before I continue, I have a story recommendation for you all!

In relation to last chapter's challenge: congratulations, **Spirit of the Morning Flower**! You are the winner! Elizabeth's line 'And I do not give my word lightly' was said in a deleted scene from _CotBP,_ where she promises to keep her word to James & marry him. A very sweet scene, really. It was my favorite scene in the entire trilogy: period!

So, that being said, please check out **Spirit of the Morning Flower**'s story, 'A Changing of the Tides'! I think you will all enjoy it! (Congratulations again, my friend, on winning the quiz! I just _knew_ it'd be you!) **:D**

Please, **R&R**, everyone, and enjoy!

~ **Silvertongued Dreams**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Twenty-Four<span>: A Study in Chess**

Back at Beckett's mansion, the newly-appointed Lord looked out into the distance. He was currently standing on the balcony, a smug smirk plastered across his face.

Ever so silently, Ian Mercer crept up behind him. "What is the purpose of the girl?" he asked all too knowingly.

Beckett scoffed, and turned around. "Oh, you mean there _has_ to be a purpose?"

Mercer looked at his commander: furrowing his brow in confusion.

Lord Beckett rolled his eyes. "_Honestly,_ Mercer. Stop taking everything so seriously. Of _course_ there is a purpose." He paused for a moment. "Have you never heard the cliché: 'A way to a man's heart is through his stomach'?"

"But of course, sir—but I fail to see what that has to do wi—"

Beckett stared at him icily, and immediately, Mercer fell silent. "Well, I have learned, that a way to a man's _pocket_ is through his family."

"Y—Yes, sir?" Mercer stammered.

Seeing that his manservant was confused, Beckett rephrased what he was saying. "What I mean _is," _he began: "I have known Ashworth for some time. I have seen him with his family." At this, he smirked: impressed at his own cleverness. "And I have deduced that Miss Ariana Perrin is, by far, his most _beloved_ daughter." He paused again. "And that knowledge will _definitely_ come in useful."

"How do you guess that?" Mercer asked. "From what I've seen, that man loves _all_ of his daughters—even though they are not technically the children of his own loins."

"Ah, that is duly noted, my good man. But, had you known Ashworth for as long as I have, you would have detected the great differences in the way that he treats all of his young ladies. Jenna, for example—she is the loyal, hardworking one, who needs to be shown love. She does not demand much in other respects. Stephanie is the pretty one: the one most likely to be married first. She is the one that gets most of the fineries, and the expensive dresses. But _Ariana, _on the other hand—" he sighed dramatically: "—Ariana is a different case altogether."

"What makes her so different?" asked Mercer.

"_Everything,"_ Cutler replied in a smooth whisper as he moved away from the balcony. "She is the intelligent one: the _creative_ one. She is the one whose imagination never stops ticking. She is the one who is not afraid to defy our culture's rules to do what she believes to be right. And because of this, she alone holds the key to her father's heart."

"He has invested more into her, you mean?"

"Precisely," Beckett returned. "When she was young, he saw the promise that she had, and spent quite a bit of money to further her education. He has given her the most advice over the years: and, even though he wouldn't dare to admit it, he looks out for her welfare more than his other daughters. She… is his _favourite."_

"Sounds like you have done your share of studying," Mercer smirked devilishly.

"Oh… _perhaps,"_ Beckett replied, turning to meet his gaze. Looking down, he grabbed the knobby head of the back of his chair, and added in a softer voice: "Personally, I couldn't care less about Ariana: even though, I must admit, I find that her spirited nature and slightly exotic complexion are quite attractive to me." Here, he paused. "She can be of some use to me; I am certain."

"Well, then, by all means! Use her as a bargaining chip. Threaten harm to her if Ashworth does not pay his outstanding debt to you."

"No. No, no, no, no, no," Beckett tutted. "We must be _far_ more subtle in our approach. For, you see, life, as well as business, is like a game of chess. We must study the game closely, in order to make sure that we move the right pieces forward at the appropriate time."

Mercer nodded, finally understanding what his master was saying. "So, it's a study in _chess,_ then?"

"In a manner of speaking," Beckett returned with a wry smile. "Come, now. We must discuss our plan."

"What plan?" Mercer asked. "You never mentioned what our plan _wa_—_"_

Beckett smirked as he pulled out his chess set. "You were saying?"

Mercer cackled heartily. "I should have known better than to ask."

"Let's talk," Beckett said as he sat down at a little table in the middle to the room: placing down the chessboard. "Let's talk… about our newest pawn."

Ian Mercer's eyes twinkled with evil delight as he took the seat across from his employer. He could tell that this was going to be a very _intriguing_ discussion, indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>I apologize. This was a short chapter, but it really did help me get out some story aspects that needed to be revealed. I sincerely hope that you all enjoyed this chapter!<strong>


	25. Reflections and Pressing Questions

**AN./ **Well! Here I am with another chapter! Please, **R&R**, and make my day! Thanks!

Much love,  
>~ Silvertongued Dreams<p>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Twenty-Five<span>: Reflections and Pressing Questions**

The first evening in our home was a peaceful one, I must admit. As I roamed about the rooms, I could see that, clearly, our quarters had been picked out for us prior to our arrival. The first room was entirely pink. _Nauseatingly…_ pink. I swear, I had to turn my eyes away for a moment: the unnatural luminance of the room nearly blinded me! Jenna always had adored pink… and I could immediately tell that this living space had been intended for her.

Walking on, I saw Steph's room: a jumbled mess of blue and sea-gray. Steph had always been the mysterious one. Gray had always intrigued her: a sort of dark beauty lay beneath that colour. So, I could only assume, that these quarters had been meant for her.

There was only one other room left on the first floor: and that, without even looking, I knew was for my father. Father always hated traveling up the stairs. I, on the other hand, could not resist it.

As I climbed the short stairway, my thoughts flew back to the day when I had first discovered that we all were to be moving to the Caribbean. I scoffed, now, at how distraught I had been when I had first found out that we were leaving London. Then, I realized something.

I had not felt such bliss as I had these past two days with James Norrington, since I had first been adopted by my father. Though I had always been a joyful person, this was something entirely different. There was a… _lightness_… to everything that I saw. The sky seemed bluer. The sun… shining more strongly than it ever had been before. _What has happened to me?_ I asked myself as I finally reached the door to my room, and pushed it open.

I breathed lightly as I took in the beautiful sight before me.

A large bay window engulfed the wall straight ahead of me: exposing a gorgeous view of the Caribbean sea. I could hear the desperate cries of the seagulls as they soared high in the sky, and swooped down onto the water with elegance and grace.

I smiled serenely as I walked up to the window, and looked down at the beach. For once, it was completely devoid of any human life.

_Time to take a walk,_ I told myself: _To get some air._

As I left my new room, which was completely furnished with lime green and Caribbean blue: two of my favorite colours. Even though Beckett was a monster, at least he took the time to arrange things to all of our likings.

As I walked back down the stairs, I could not help but wonder how different things would have been, had Father not gone into business with Lord Beckett. Would I still be in London, or would my adventurous spirit still have led me to this wondrous place?

_Well, no matter,_ I told myself: opening the back door.

An exhilarating sea breeze blew in my face: mussing my hair. I did so love the sea, but I had never imagined that I would be fortunate enough as to live right _by_ it.

There was a slight chill in the air: I had a feeling that a storm would be coming within the next few days. It was certainly the season for it! That much I knew from all my book-study.

It was with that thought that I looked back at our new home and cringed. Would our little home be able to take the beating of a mid-summer Caribbean storm?

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile, <em>back at Lordthorne Hall, James Norrington raced to his front door. It had already started to rain, and Gillette and his cousin Elanor hadn't had the time to return to their home. One thing was for certain. They were not going to risk going back in _this_ weather.

"Confound it all!" Gillette exclaimed irately: holding out his hand to feel the strength of the rain as James hastened to unlock the door. "Of course, it _had_ to rain. This day has been bad enough already!"

James gave the door an uncharacteristically hard jerk, and turned to Gillette, panting. "I did not find the day as dull as you appear to have."

"Of _course_ you didn't!" Gillette continued as the three of them rushed inside. "Other than losing that duel with Turner, you had a pretty good time of it. 'Sweaty hands', my foot! I mean, it's not often that a girl will just up and offer to button up your overcoat. Great one-liner, Jamie! Tell me, does it work on _all_ of the young ladies?"

Norrington turned sharply towards his friend: his cheeks burning bright red. "I have no idea what you might be insinuating, Phillip."

"—Oh, I think you _do,"_ Gillette pushed further: a teasing expression on his face. "What man in his right mind would pass up an attractive young woman with a pleasing form cozying up into his personal space? Something to think about, eh?(!)"

"Gillette, if you weren't my good friend, I would have knocked you to the ground by now for making such hideous accusations!" James growled through gritted teeth.

"Please, don't think I am blaming it all on you," Gillette continued. "I mean, it is obvious that she was ready to leap at the chance you gave her. I bet she's been dreaming of getting that close to a man for a long time."

"Stop this right now, Phillip. It is one thing to jest. It is another thing entirely to tarnish respectable people's reputations with your foolish accusations."

"Oh, '_foolish'_, are they?" Gillette smiled: his plan was working. "Why, I am just trying to get you to say something that we all _know_ you are thinking."

Norrington sighed exasperatedly. "What is _that,_ exactly?"

James's gaze seemed to bore straight into him, and for a moment, Gillette found that he couldn't find the right words to say. "You _like_ her, don't you?"

Elanor, who had remained entirely silent during this heated debate, gasped at the thought, and her face turned ashen white. Could it be? Was it even _possible? _

James locked gazes with his friend and scoffed: walking away. Did Gillette really think that he was going to answer him, after all of the thoughtless provoking he had just made him endure?(!) No, Norrington wasn't going to reward his friend's behavior. Besides, whatever he felt, positive, or otherwise… was none of his business.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the lack of fluff in this chapter. I just needed to have Ariana really think on all the stuff that has happened to her. Even though this is a filler, it isn't a pointless one, as I hope you will keep in mind. I promise there will be a major twist coming along in a bit, I just don't know exactly when will be the appropriate time to announce it <strong>:D


	26. No Matter What the Consequences

**AN./ **I hope you all enjoy the delicious dose of fluff I have in store for you! Now, please, remember to **R&R**! Thank you!

Sorry about the long wait! It has been a long Marvel marathon over at my house, preparing for the Avengers movie, which I saw today! It was FANTASTIC! Seriously, go see it. It is one of the greatest films I have ever had the privilege of watching! Eye-candy, humor, heart-stopping action, great plot... some _more_ eye-candy... Oh, BTW, does anyone else think that Loki is a sexy beast (when he is in _Thor)?! _I had a hard time in the theater: Captain America or Loki? Hahaha, toughie! But I ended up rooting for the good guy, as I always do **:D** Anyway, enough of my ranting! Go see the movie! And if you've already seen it, PM me; I would love to chat about it!

Oh, on another note... I know something I bet _none of you_ know about Jack Davenport… (did you know he has an adorable birthmark on his right arm?)

~ Silvertongued Dreams

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Twenty-Six<span>: No Matter What the Consequences**

Our first week in Port Royal remained as dull as any other week in the course of my life. Only, this week, I found that conversation amongst the members of my family were little to none. Jenna would come into my room to talk to me only just before bed, and Steph remained as mysterious and obscure as a ghost: I was fortunate to squeeze a 'good morning' out of her at the breakfast table.

This new home of ours was quickly transforming into a timeless void—devoid of any life, or joy. Oftentimes, I was left to myself, with no one to talk to. Even the one maid that we had been granted from Lord Beckett's staff wanted nothing to do with me.

Although we had not seen him since that day he showed us into this small little cottage, Beckett's hold loomed over us day in and day out: like an invisible snake, choking the life out of us.

Father and I used to be so close, and now, he can barely stand to look at me. Only once this past week have we exchanged words, and that was when I told him that I knew what Beckett had done to him.

Poor Father—he looked so depressed. I could tell that he had been unable to sleep, for his eyes were heavy and careworn. I knew, deep down, that he needed to unburden himself, and so, one day, I approached him, and asked him to tell me _everything_.

"How much do you owe Lord Beckett?" I asked, which startled him immensely.

"I… I don't know, my love," Father replied with a heavy sigh. "Some £15,000, if memory serves. Oh, God." He sighed yet again: his voice quaking with emotion. "So much debt!"

"What sort of business were you into, Papa?" I asked tenderly.

"Dear child… I dare not tell you for the shame of it!" he exclaimed: his voice choking. "It—it was so wrong!"

"_What_ was so wrong, Father(?)! Surely, it could not have been that terrible!" I encouraged.

It was then that he looked straight at me: a fire burning in his eyes. "Do not _ever_ be so certain about anything, my child. Every one of us is capable of the most heinous sin, and believe me, my sins are plenty."

I swallowed hard: terrified, now, at what I might have to hear. "Are you sure you want to know?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

I nodded insistently. "Yes, my Father: tell me _everything."_

* * *

><p>My eyes widened with shock as my father relayed to me the horrid facts of business with Lord Beckett. For nearly three years, the two of them had been making an exorbitant amount of money in the slave trade. My eyes welled with tears as father told me of a mother and infant son that had been torn away from a desperately pleading husband. But the slave trade showed no mercy. Thousands of men, women, and children from West Africa all the way to India had been swept away to be sold as chattel to upstanding English families.<p>

… That is, until one ship never made it to London. The ship that had defied all orders, and set free the slaves. That heroic ship that had, ironically, condemned my family's existence, but had saved _so_ many lives. And that ship was named the _Wicked Wench_.

After father's story was complete, I was almost entirely out of breath.

"Please do not judge me, my dear daughter. I—I _know_ that what I did was wrong… and I wish to God that I could undo what I have done."

"I will not judge you, Father…" I broke off in a choked voice: "But… it disappoints me that you were involved in such underhanded and unethical dealings!"

"My greed became the best of me," Father admitted. He scoffed in an attempt to keep his tears from falling. "I am a _fallen_ man, Ariana! I am not perfect… and God only knows how much I have failed you all."

It was then that he could not hold back anymore, and buried his face in his hands: indulging his sobs.

"Oh, Papa…" I spoke tenderly, holding him close. "You have not failed us all. This is merely a test. A challenge from Fate," I said with a weak smile. "Is that not what you told me, Father? That moving here was a challenge from Fate?"

Father scoffed, and looked at me as he pushed a stray stand of hair behind my ear. "That I did, my dear child. That I did."

"Then that is all that matters," I returned affectionately. "And you may rest assured that I, for one, will stand beside you, no matter what happens."

Father smiled warmly at me: placing a soft kiss on my forehead. "I know you shall, my dear daughter; I _know_ you shall—even though it is not your burden to bear."

"Any burden my father must bear, I must bear as well," I returned with determination. "No matter _what_ the consequences."

"No matter what the consequences," Father returned with a prideful smile as he pressed me to his heart. "Let us never forget that."

* * *

><p>Later on that day, I decided to take a walk around town. This would really be the first time I had ventured out on my own, and this new prospect excited me. Perhaps, if I walked past the fort, I would run into James. <em>For<em> _shame, Ariana! _As I gave myself a mental slap on the face, I could not help but smile. That man had turned my head in a way no other male had ever done before. While I had had a slight crush on Alexander, it was nothing like I was feeling at this moment. What I was feeling for James was deeper. And I knew that it was too soon to be love. Love takes time—it is not spawned on a whim.

With those thoughts coursing through my head, I walked past the smithy where Will was currently hammering a horseshoe. I found it quite curious how a man of his lack of expertise could defeat a man like James in a duel as intense as the one I had witnessed only a week or so earlier.

Ah, that duel! I blushed as I recalled how close I had allowed myself to lean into James. It had been quite wicked of me to take such advantage of him when he was feeling so low, but I could not resist feeling the heat of his perspiring skin and to take in the salty-sweet scent of his sweat.

What was the matter with me? James Norrington was all I could think about, no matter _how _much I strove to do otherwise.

_Poor Alexander,_ I thought to myself: feeling rather guilty for thinking about the captain in such a manner, when he was not the man to whom I was going to be wed. _I only hope that he will forgive me and my wandering eyes_.

I tried to convince myself that my infatuation with James was not completely unfounded. The man had saved my life. If it had not been for him, that day on the beach, I might very well have been left for dead: never again to be reunited with my family. _If it had not been for him_….

My thoughts were unexpectedly cut short as I realized that I had wandered much farther than I had intended. I had been so lost in thought that I really hadn't the faintest idea of where I was.

I scowled as I looked up at the sky, which was now overcast. It would definitely be raining again: it _was_ the storm season, as I had to keep on reminding myself. I could only hope that this storm would not be as harsh as the one that had bombarded Port Royal the past weekend.

I looked around anxiously: I had seen all of Port Royal, but I didn't particularly remember this bit. I was lost, and there was no-one around. Even the shops and pedestrians had all but disappeared.

I was growing frantic. I was all alone, and in a place where no one would think to find me—no one at home even knew that I was missing!

_Stay calm, Ariana, stay calm,_ I told myself: taking in a deep breath to clear out my head. Closing my eyes, then re-opening them in an attempt to regain focus, I realized that I was near the seashore, which meant that Fort Charles was nearby: or, in worst-case scenario, Lord Beckett. Perhaps there were other buildings along the way, but I had no way of knowing. I had only been down this way once, and during half of the jaunt, I was unconscious, being carried by Lieutenant Gillette.

It was then that I caught sight of a building in the distance: it was barely more than a speck from where I was standing, but I figured it was worth a shot—_especially since_ it looked as though this rain would not hold much longer.

Determined to make my way out of this maze, I gathered up my skirts and ran as fast as I could.

After only a few minutes, rain started to come down. Although it was only drizzling at this point, I was drenched within moments, and my hair clung to the sides of my face. With an unladylike squeal, I ran even harder than I had dared to before. Mud splashed up high, staining my petticoats and covering the bottom two-inches of my silk dress with mud. I looked _quite_ a sorry state.

I could not tell you how long it took me to reach my destination: but once I saw what it was, I sighed. The harder I tried to forget Captain Norrington, the more the Fates seemed to _throw_ him at me.

Before me stood an illustrious mansion. And that mansion was none other… than _Lordthorne Hall._

_Well, now is not the time to complain_ _about where you find yourself, Ariana. The rain is getting heavier and pretty soon it will be pelting far too hard for you to make your way back home tonight!_

Despite all the things working against me: my feelings, the weather, and the desperate situation I was in, I found myself turning away from the door. Something was telling me that if I passed through those doors, I would re-emerge an entirely different woman.

As I descended the stairs, the rain seemed to intensify in ferocity. Thunder rumbled, and spindles of lightning shot out of the sky in the distance.

"Oh, my goodness!" I exclaimed in surprise. "I can't do this. I can't go back!"

Slowly clambering back up the stairway, I huddled up in a corner, and, hugging my knees, broke down into a sob. There was no awning, so I was completely exposed, and the torrents of rain showered down upon me mercilessly. I was all alone, and no one knew where I was. And the only person who could possibly help me was the one person I wanted to keep away from. The situation was hopeless. And there was no escaping that fact.

I have no idea how long I was waiting there, but I must have fallen asleep, for when I awoke, James Norrington was standing over me, a bemused expression on his face.

It took me a while to adjust my vision, but when it cleared, I almost didn't recognize him. Soaking wet, he was missing his overcoat, and his transparent white shirt stuck to his finely-sculpted back. _Thank God for small favours, _I thought with an evil smirk that never made its way to my face.

"How long have you been here?" Norrington asked gently.

I let out a soft moan as I rolled my head towards him, and my sleepy gaze met his. "C—Captain! I… I don't know…." My voice broke off, and I felt myself slipping in and out of consciousness. "I must have fallen asleep. _I_…._"_

Before I could say another word, I had slumped over, and James caught me up in his arms. "You have been out here far too long," he murmured into my hair sympathetically: wrapping his arms about me comfortingly as he scooped me into his arms. With a heavy sigh, he looked up into the turbulent sky. "And, from the looks of things, you are going to have to remain at Lordthorne Hall for quite some time yet."

With those last words, he carried me inside: never once expecting how much the events of that afternoon would change _both_ of our lives… forever.

* * *

><p><strong>So, what did you think? Please be sure to let me know! <strong>_**Oh**_**… and, the new major plot twist will be coming in shortly, I promise **;D


	27. There is Magic in the Rain

**AN./ **Glad you all are still loving this—haha! Please **R&R**—it really means the world to me! Thanks!

BTW, I've _thoroughly_ changed obsessions. I saw Thor and The Avengers for the first time a little over a wk. ago & am absolutely _in love_ with those movies (and Loki!—_totally _yummy!)! They are my new favorite films, which as a result moved me to revamp my entire profile, clear out some of my older stories, & made me start the already immensely-popular Lokane pairing _Thor_ fanfic: '_**The Rose's Thorn'**_. Please check it out: it's _fantastic,_ if I do say so myself! And leave me a review if you decide to visit! Thank you! It's definitely one of my favorites of my stories on here! **xD**

Updates on this story from now on will not be as regular, I'm sorry to say. I'm not really into James at the moment, but because I do not like to give up on things, I'll finish this fic as I have promised. Please be patient with me! **xD **Thank you for understanding!

With love,  
>~ Silvertongued Dreams<p>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Twenty-Seven<span>: There is Magic in the Rain**

Lordthorne Hall  
><strong>AN HOUR EARLIER<strong>

_I cannot get her out of my mind. That enchanting smile does such unspeakable things to me. Why can I not seem to get her out of my mind?_

James Norrington paced about his office, restless: his hands folded behind his neck. It had been nearly a week since he had last seen me. For most men, a lady of such short acquaintance would have already been long forgotten. But not me. _Not me_.

_I have never felt such vivacity as when she is around me. And I am not a man of impulsive fancies; _no: _what I feel for Ariana is true and genuine. But… why would God have sent her to me if I was never to see her again?_

The distressed captain stopped before his bay window: the illustrious view scarcely able to take his breath away: there was none left to take. He had spent every night the past week, restless, remaining awake with only his only thoughts resting in Port Royal's mysterious new resident. He knew that he could not keep on going like this. He needed to see me again. Even if it were just to resolve just what his feelings towards me were….

With a heavy sigh, the captain sat down at his desk, and, resting his elbows on the table, massaged both his temples. _Dear Lord, _he prayed in silence: _if it is your will that I see her again… please, I pray… send her to me. Send Ariana… to _me.

James could not restrain the smile that had been threatening to dawn on his face for many long minutes, now. For the first time in years, he had found someone that had made him feel happy… and he did not want to lose that feeling… ever again.

All of a sudden, thunder rang throughout the noontime sky, and James scowled. "Rain. Of _course_ it had to bloody rain! Oh, well…" He sighed yet again, rising to adjust the lace curtains: opening them wider to compensate for the sudden lack of sunlight. "I suppose rain isn't _always_ a bad thing."

Little did he know how right he was.

* * *

><p><strong>PRESENT<strong>

"Please, Ariana—_please,_ be all right," James panted: lying me down gently on the bed in the nearest chamber. "Ariana?" he asked gently, brushing the hair away from my forehead.

Though I had not remained long in the rain, my hair was soaked and I was chilled to the cold. Apparently, my constitution was not as strong as I had thought. For in only a few moments, I had become completely undone. The stress of all that had been going on in my family was _finally_ wearing down upon me.

"_Ariana…."_ I could hear him, but his voice was like a distant echo. An echo that I wished I could catch and hold close to me, but no amount of striving could bring me out of my barely-conscious state.

James was growing terribly concerned, and such was _clearly_ evident by the look on his face. "_April!"_ Norrington exclaimed, rushing from the room for but a moment. "Send for the doctor, at once."

April Seax nearly dropped the tea kettle when she saw the urgency written in the curves of the commodore's face. "Is everything _all right, _sir?(!)"

"No, it is not," James panted back. "Miss Perrin is ill. Very _terribly…_ ill."

That was all it took. She did not need to hear him say it twice. The tone in which he implored her was more than enough.

* * *

><p>James paced in front of the door of the room where I was currently being examined by the doctor. He had been in there for what seemed to be an <em>eternity,<em> and not a sound was to be heard. Resting a finger worriedly on his chin, he wondered when this agony was going to end.

And then, it did.

The doctor emerged from the room, his head hung in perfect silence. To Norrington, he seemed rather solemn, and this did not make him feel any easier.

_Blast it, James, just go talk to him,_ Norrington scolded himself.

And with those words of self-given advice, he stepped forward boldly: his breaths hasty and uncertain.

"Dr. Archibald!" Norrington practically stammered. "How—how is the patient?"

The doctor sighed heavily. "Well… that is hard to say."

Norrington looked confused. "I—I don't understand."

"Well… to be perfectly honest... I—I'm not certain."

"_What?(!)_" James replied indignantly.

The doctor sighed yet again. "—It is apparent that she is under some acute emotional distress, and overcome by this distress, she has fallen into a deep, deep slumber like none I have ever seen before. A… _depression_… of sorts. It—it might be a good idea to let her stay here, in Lordthorne Hall, for a while: until she feels well enough to return home."

"But of course, Doctor. Whatever needs to be done shall be carried out without reluctance on my part—I can assure you."

The doctor forced a wry smile. "You know… people _will_ talk."

"Let them!" James cried indignantly. "I am not going to put some young woman's health at risk merely because some people might gossip at the 'impropriety' of the situation. I am an honorable man, and she is an honorable woman. And being confident in these facts, I am ready to withstand any idle chatter that might come my way. In the long run, I shall be acting on behalf of a dear lady's health—and that is all that matters to me."

"Well spoken, Captain Norrington—well spoken. Now, if you'll excuse me… I have other calls to make." When James did not make a move, he looked rather surprised. "It's fine to go in, you know."

James gasped as if he had just snapped out of a trance. "Oh? Really? Thank you. Well… let me see you out."

"I am fine, thank you," the doctor chuckled: advancing towards the door. "Have a good day, Captain."

"Thank you… you also," he returned in a soft mumble: heading towards my room as soon as the doctor was out of sight.

* * *

><p>Advancing with care, James approached the door to my room, and twisted the doorknob quietly.<p>

The room was dark. Apparently, the doctor had drawn the curtains, and it was only by chance that the captain saw my resting form.

A small, sad smile crept across James's face, and, overcome with emotion, he stooped by my bedside, and clasped my hand between both of his. "I'm so sorry it has come to this, Ariana." He swallowed hard. "When—When I prayed I might have more time with you, I never expected that God would send you to me like this." He tried his best to maintain his complacent tone, but it was of no use. "I'm so sorry, Ariana! I should have been there for you."

I lay there, still as Snow White in her glass coffin. Not a word was to be heard from me, but I could hear everything he said to my motionless form. It touched me that he cared so much. I never would have known.

"—The doctor says that you shall need some time to recover: he has ordered that you stay here… with me…" He hesitated. "… For the time being."

Even though I was deep in my rest, I could not help but smile. But heaven knows the captain did not notice.

In only a moment, I could sense a change in him. Leaning over me: his breath warm on my neck, he bent down and pressed a tender kiss on my forehead. "Please, Ariana—stay with me. _My love… _stay with me."

Squeezing my hand one last time, he departed.

_He loves me. Dear Lord, James Norrington is in love with me_—_how can this be? _My mind replayed his words over and over and over and over again. _Well, I guess it is true—what they say. There _is_ magic in the rain. The kind of magic that romance authors revel in; that moment when the couple kiss for the first time, seemingly no cares in the world. The kind of magic... that one can grasp hold of only once in a lifetime. _

Oh, how I wanted to wake up. I wanted to awaken, and tell James how wholeheartedly I reciprocated his feelings. But, no… I could not wake up… and was beginning to fear that I never could. _Oh, dear God, please do not let me die before I can tell him how much I love him._

* * *

><p><strong>So, what do you think? What is this 'unusual slumber' Ariana has fallen into? A coma of sorts? Or a magical Odinsleep-like thing induced by her magical powers? Well, whatever you think, please <strong>R&R**! When I reach 10 reviews for this chapter I will post again! OK?**


	28. Please, Just Be Sleeping

**AN./ **Hey there! I'm back with another chapter. Hope you enjoy it! It's sort of a filler, but I apologize for that. Please, don't forget to **R&R**!

Also, I have a new story on here that I am very _very_ excited about, called **'A Different Kind of Heaven'.** It is a Thor fangirls fic, with primarily Loki/OC and some Thor/OC. It is very fun to read, (and my favorite story I've written!) and I hope that you will go check it out and leave me a review! Thank you!

Oh, and, yesterday, I went to _The Avengers_ for the 2nd time. Good Lord, I could not stop grinning like an idiot every time Tom Hiddleston was on screen… :P

~ Silvertongued Dreams

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Twenty-Eight<span>:** **Please, Just Be Sleeping…**

At Fort Charles, it was far quieter than usual. For the past week, hardly a word had been spoken above a whisper.

"What's the matter with the Captain?" Groves whispered to Gillette as they silently peered into Norrington's office.

"I've heard tragedy has struck Lordthorne Hall… rather badly," Gillette returned as he observed the captain sigh for the hundredth time that afternoon. "He will not speak of it. Not to me—not to _any_ of us," he added rather somberly.

"The poor man looks like he is having a difficult time of it," Groves commented under his breath. "Sh—should we try to coax him to go home early today?"

"Nay… therein, I think, is where the source of his pain lies," Gillette sighed. "Something… or _someone _in his life… has changed him…; and the transformation is hard to watch."

"Well, I, for one, am not about to stand by and watch this, doing nothing!" Groves exclaimed with determination.

With those words, despite all of those Gillette's frantically muttered protests, Theodore marched into Norrington's office. "Ah, James! I was looking for you!"

This greeting did not seem to stir any response from the burdened captain at all.

Groves leaned over him, standing _closer_ this time. "Erm, sir?"

Norrington gasped lightly. "Groves! So sorry… I did not notice you come in." James looked down and swallowed hard. "I have not really noticed much of _anything_ lately, to be perfectly honest."

"Is everything all right, James?" Groves asked, staring down at his friend.

"No," James sighed heavily in return. "No, I am afraid that it's not."

Sensing his need to talk, Theodore sat in the chair opposite Norrington's desk. "You know that you can talk to me about anything, James. Absolutely anything."

For a moment, Norrington looked upward, his gaze meeting Theodore's with a slight gleam. _Those were just the words he had been waiting to hear._

"Thank you for that," James replied with a forced smile. "As it so happens, I really do need to get something off of my chest." He arched a brow at his friend. "Are you _certain_ you wish to hear all of my troubles?"

With a slight smirk, Groves looked down at his pocket watch, and remarked: "Well, I've got a little while before I have to meet Miss Westfall for our picnic… so, I'd say, let's go for it."

Norrington smirked playfully for the first time in over a week. "Aha! So you are courting Elanor now?"

Groves let out a slight titter. "_Yes_…_"_

"Is it serious?" James prodded further.

"I certainly hope so," Theodore returned with restrained enthusiasm. "But, alas… I am here to talk about _you. _You… have been acting so _strange_ of late. I am worried for you, my old friend," Groves admitted. "I miss you."

Norrington bit his lower lip: he had been on the verge of crying all day from the strain, but this sweet confession just might be what finally sent him over the edge. "Very well, then," he said in a soft voice: barely soft enough to hear. "Let me tell you my story… but, first, close the door."

Silently doing as he was bid, Groves shut the door. Apparently, whatever he was about to hear was more serious than he had originally anticipated.

* * *

><p><em><strong>A Week Earlier….<strong>_

"Father, have you seen Ariana?" Jenna asked: her brow furrowing as she walked into the parlor to find only her father. "She is not in her room, and I am a bit concerned. It is raining most terribly outside, and I am starting to think that she went out for a stroll."

Father scarcely lifted his gaze from the newspaper he was reading. "What?"

"I have not seen Ariana for _hours,_ Father. Do you know where she might be?"

"I am afraid that I haven't the faintest idea," Father returned, biting his lower lip. "Have you asked Stephanie where she might be?"

"—Father! You _know_ how much I hate to be called Stephanie!" Steph whined from the top of the stairs as she descended from her quarters. "But, anyway, what were you asking him, Jenna?"

"Oh, I was merely wondering if he knew where Ariana was. I have not seen her for some hours."

"Neither have I," Steph replied: a look of concern washing over her as she looked out the window and saw the rain coming down in sheets. "Oh, blast it! If she is outside…."

Just then, a knock sounded at the door, and the two young women turned to each other, surprised at the intrusion. "Who on Earth could that be?(!)"

"I'll go get it," Jenna volunteered, rushing to the front door.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Miss, but does a certain Ariana Perrin live 'ere?" the young man asked, all out of breath. He clung to his sleeves tightly as he stepped inside, and when he bent over to enter the cottage, the rim of his top hat, which was filled with rainwater, spilled its contents onto the carpet. "My apologies, Miss."

"Oh, it is all right… and, _yes,_ Ariana is my adopted sister. Why, have you word of her? We were all just remarking how we have not seen her this past hour."

The messenger sighed heavily. "Well, Miss…" he entered and sat down on the sofa, where the rest of my family soon assembled: "That is the complicated part."

"Um… _why_ is it complicated?" Steph asked insistently.

The man sighed yet again. "Well, you see, she was wandering outside today, and she happened to reach the home of my employer, Captain James Norrington, before she collapsed. We can only assume that she was in the rain for too long… as the doctor has come on by, but cannot make head nor tail of what has happened to her."

Jenna gasped. "My God! Will she be all right?(!)"

The messenger from Lordthorne Hall sighed heavily. "Only God knows, Miss. Only God knows."

With those uncertain words, Jenna burst into a fit of tears, and Father, who had been listening to the man's words in complete unbelief, stammered, but no words came to his anxious lips.

Twice, tragedy had struck my family. For one, there was no cure. But for the other… would illness and death take over what little happiness we had left?

* * *

><p><strong>PRESENT<strong>

James returned home with a far lighter heart after his discussion with Groves. At last, he had been able to trust the week's happenings to someone who would not judge him, or the story's credibility. Theodore knew the captain to be an honest man, and Norrington knew that he could share his deepest sorrows without being frowned upon, in his presence.

As Norrington passed through the wide hallway of Lordthorne Hall, he could _feel_ the gloom all around him. With a heavy sigh, he began to remove his overcoat, and it was then that April Seax the maid rushed forward to help him.

"April, has she moved at all today?" he asked in a rather exhausted tone.

April bit her lower lip: almost afraid to give her master the same answer she had been giving to him over and over and over and over again the past week. "No, sir. No, I am afraid not."

At this response, James sighed, and placed his sword down by the coat rack. "Please tell cook that I'll take dinner in her room."

April sighed. "Again, Master?"

James turned towards her sullenly. "_Always,_ April. Until she awakens… I shall be there. I vowed it."

With those words, he marched down the corridor, and entered the room where I lay, and closed the door behind him.

Now, it was just the two of us. _Just as it always should have been._

* * *

><p><strong>Ooh! I wonder what is going to happen next! Haha, the next chapter will focus more on James when he is with Ariana. I apologize that this is so short and that I had to split this chapter in 2. I hope you enjoy and please leave me a review! <strong>


	29. Break the Curse

**AN./ **Hey there! Here's another chapter. Luckily for you, I am _(somewhat)_ getting back into PotC mode! I got super high on Hiddles the other night (goodness, I didn't know it was humanly possible to watch 3 movies that chuck full of his gorgeousness all in one sitting!), so I am trying to take advantage of this break and slip back into MOIAL for a bit. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Alas, though… we are nearing the end of this dear tale… *sniffles*.

Please review for me; thanks! No reviews, no updates! **xD**

Thanks again for your faithful following!

~ Silvertongued Dreams

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Twenty-Nine<span>: _"Break the Curse."_**

James would most certainly have felt foolish had anyone known he had been pouring his heart out to an unconscious, half-dead woman. But the fact of the matter was, he had kept his feelings pent up for so long, that it was time for a release. And even if it was to a woman who would never awake to appreciate the man that he was, so be it.

"—She was really the first woman I ever cared for—yet she is scarcely more than a child, even now, I loved her dearly. Elizabeth… brought a light into my life that I had not ever felt before. Then, she left, and ever so slowly, that light extinguished. That is… until _you_ came along."

Norrington swallowed hard, trying not to cry. Conjuring up these old memories were, oftentimes, extremely painful for him. The Navy had taught him to internalize everything: a trait that was, most times, admirable—but, long-term, it had had a detrimental effect on him. He'd sworn to himself, after his mother died, that he would never again shed another tear. A noble promise, but an impossible one, he realized. Anything seemed possible as a determined fourteen-year-old midshipman. But, now, his world was shattering again—and he could not hold back the tears that were threatening to fall down his cheeks. He had finally found someone to love, only for that person snatched away from him. Why was life so cruel?(!)

"_Ariana…"_ Goodness, his soft, smooth voice sent chills through my body, even in my complete state of unconsciousness. I could feel his hand clasp mine: gently squeezing as he uttered reassuring words to me. I could tell that he was doubtful of my ever waking, but if only he could know how alive my mind was… and how desperately I wanted to respond to him….

"Ariana… please… wake up. _Please."_

He was pleading with me now. That made me angry. Angry that I could not bolt upright and kiss him: that I could not hold him as I knew he needed to be held… and comforted. I knew well that empty feeling—that sense of belonging nowhere. That listlessness that seemed to call out for one's demise. He was alone, poor soul—as I had so often felt. He and I were more alike than I would have cared to think, for I viewed him higher than almost any other person I had ever met.

We had scarcely talked more than three times, yet all it took for him to realize that he loved me was this… _incident_ that would almost certainly drive us apart forever. It is strange how life works sometimes. You never know how much you need something until it is being ripped from you.

James sat there for many hours, lost in thought, and fell asleep at my bedside: never once dropping my hand.

The only moments of contentment he seemed to have nowadays were the times he was with me. I was the silent companion who did not judge him or anything he had to say. He could tell me anything without fear of it being repeated. His darkest fears and secret workings of his heart were willing conversation for my open ears and mute lips. I was his silent confidante… but I wished to be silent no longer.

_Something was alive inside my head_. I wanted to fight it, but it was of no use. I could feel the life being squeezed out of me. And a laugh. A very maniacal laugh.

"I _told _you that you had not seen the last of me…._" _a victorious, familiar voice roared inside my dreams.

_Whoosh_. Within an instant, my head was spinning, and the barren scenery turned, revealing the decaying deck of the _Black Pearl_. Everyone was frozen in time—save for myself, and the grisly pirate who now stood in front of me.

… _Captain Hector Barbossa._

"Ah, Captain! I trust you have good pause for this… _untimely _interruption?"

The captain laughed heartily, and crossed his arms. "Seems now's as good a time as any. I _did_ say that we would meet again. Though, I gather, ye did not think me to be the sort to invade your… _personal_ space."

"I would not think thee to be a mastermind or a sorcerer, like the rumored gods of old," I retorted spitefully. "Gods who never even existed; just as _magic_ never existed. Well, to me, at least. Until quite recently."

"Nevertheless, I am as you see me," Barbossa smirked wildly, backing away with flourish. "Though ye now hold the Sword of Cortés, ye do not yet know Its full power. All who have wielded it… retain some extraordinary powers… even after It has been passed down."

"The Sword gives magic to those who wield it?" I asked dubiously.

"Oh, aye! And a very powerful magic at that, too. Ye see, ye and I are connected, now. As we are connected to Cortés himself. Ye see, when ye escaped the _Pearl_ some weeks back, I did not despair because I had given the Sword to ye… and thus, I could watch ye at all times. The Sword is me eye in places I cannot be. I know yer weaknesses. Yer family. And… yer _lover."_

I recoiled a bit when he referred to James as my 'lover' so poignantly. Clearing my throat uncomfortably, I shifted my gaze—only to find that, when I turned, on the horizon, in a veil of fog, there was the scene of James Norrington weeping over my still frame.

"How did tha—?"

"There's no use trying to deny it," Barbossa returned, arms crossed. "He is the reason I had to put you in this magical sleep. Ye were becoming far too distracted with him. Pretty soon, ye would have been of no good to me."

"I still don't understand!" I exclaimed in extremely irritated tones. "What on Earth do you want with me?(!) And why do you have to drag James into all of this?(!)"

"Because, dearie, while being the force that makes you useless to me, he also holds the key to all our problems," Barbossa explained in a tone that was smooth as honey. "If I threatened to kill him if you did not do as I wished, then surely you would do as I wish! For I know ye are a loyal and loving sort. Do what I wish, and I will spare the captain's life."

"Why should I trust you?(!)" I demanded: tears streaming down my face. "I really don't understand! _What is it that you want from me?(!)"_

Barbossa leaned forward, whispering into my ear: "Just a little drop of blood. Break the curse. _Find_ the last piece of accursed Aztec gold. It is heading this way… I can _feel_ it in my bones. _Bring it to me_… or yer lover-boy dies!"

I gasped. "No! No! No!"

Barbossa chuckled maniacally as he backed away, swirling his hand with a green mist that soon shrouded him from my eyes. "I'm afraid ye've got no choice, dearie! Not unless you want that dapper young officer to die."

I furrowed my brow in alarm, and then, I saw it in his face. The cold, unfeeling look of a man so desperate that he was willing to do anything in order to get what he was after.

For a moment, his blue eyes glinted in the sparkle of sunlight blazing down upon us. Holding his worn pocket watch in his hand, he dangled it before me: teasing me with it like a man would a dog with a steak bone.

"Time to wake up, poppet!…

… Poppet….

… _Poppet…."_

I could feel something delightfully warm against my lips, and I awoke with a start: James Norrington's tearful gaze meeting mine with the sweetest look of relief I had ever seen.

"H—How long have I been asleep?" I asked in a soft murmur as I pulled the blankets closer about me.

James's heavenly jades shimmered with tears of relief, and wordlessly, he drew me close to himself and tucked my head under his chin. "Oh, thank God," he wept, kissing the top of my head with the utmost tenderness. "You didn't leave me. _You didn't leave me."_

As I felt his gentle hands against my back, I could not help but smile. James Norrington had fallen in love with me—while I was sleeping, of all things.

And, now, after all we had been through, and all we were _about _to go through together—it was time for him to rediscover that love for me all over again.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Awwww!<strong>_** Well, sorry guys, if Barbossa went a little Rumplestiltskin on you at the end. I hope you liked! Please **R&R**!**


	30. Almost

**AN./ **Again, I am _soooo_ sorry for the delay. Life has been extremely, _extremely_ hectic, and, not to mention, I've been suffering from immense writer's block. Nevertheless, here I am with another chapter! I hope you all enjoy it! Please, though, don't forget to R&R!

**Announcement on Future Chapters: **I will try to update at least once a month until this story reaches its conclusion, but I can't promise anything, as I am still working on my original fiction, and 3 other multi-chapter fanfictions. I _will,_ however, update whenever I find a chance! Once again, I apologize for the uncharacteristically long wait! Anyway, enough of my ranting—enjoy this new chapter, and tell me what you liked about it in your review! **:D**

God bless,  
>~ Silvertongued Dreams<p>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Thirty<span>**: _**Almost**_

"April!" James's voice boomed from the tiny room where I had been lying. "_April,_ come here!"

Alarmed by the sense of urgency in her master's tone, April burst into the room, all out of breath.

"Oh, Master Norrington! What is the matter?! Shall I have to call for the doc…_tor…?"_

April Seax's words died with her breath as she rested her gaze on my slowly-waking form.

"Why, Miss Ariana! You're awake! We were afraid that, you know, after being asleep for so many—"

Norrington shot a warning look at April that immediately silenced her. I knew that something was going on—something that James was hiding from me. I had asked him how long I had been asleep, and deliberately, he had not answered. It was only then that I started to put two and two together.

My questioning gaze shot into James with a special kind of guilt, and, clearing his throat, he turned to the maid and asked her to go fetch the doctor. Once her footsteps had died away, James turned to me once more. "I'm sorry," was all he could manage.

I could not help but wonder at those sad, sad eyes of his. They bore such pain: pain that I wished I could just sponge away, but I knew I had no such power. The man had been through quite a bit, no thanks to me, and, like a gentleman, he had taken me in, although I was of no responsibility to him, and had remained with me loyally.

Although I was desperate to know how long I'd been at Lordthorne Hall, I knew it would be disrespectful of me to press upon Norrington too hard. He was clearly taxed, and had not slept in days, so I decided that, rather than _re-asking_ the question, that I'd just ease into the topic.

"Whatever for, Captain?" I asked with a warm smile. "It is _I_ who should be apologizing to you for putting you at such an inconvenience. Though, I cannot help but wonder why I am here. My memory is rather hazy at the moment," I commented wearily.

"Do _not_ put me off the topic," Norrington returned almost snippily: his deep voice full of commanding grace and elegance—an elegance that was still polite, despite being distressed. "I have not answered your question, due to the fact that some of its aspects are disturbing."

" 'Disturbing' ?"

"Yes, Miss Perrin."

I ticked my head to the side for a moment, examining his face with gentle concern and very slight amusement. "Well, pray, then, do not leave me in such suspense!"

Norrington sighed heavily, and I could not help but notice that when he stared down at my comforter, his fingers twined with the fabric agitatedly, and they slowly made their way towards my hand….

Moments passed without another word from him. "_James?"_ I dared to whisper into the cold, unfriendly silence: ever so slowly edging my hand towards his.

His hand was warm—like his heart—and he glanced up at me with a look of pleasant surprise etched upon his face, as if he'd never been touched affectionately before in his entire life. What some might have described as an icy exterior melted away within a matter of moments, and he gripped my hand even more firmly.

"Miss Perrin—"

"Yes?" I breathed shallowly: stirred to life by the closeness of his face to mine.

For a moment, it was all so close—so tangible to me. Any thoughts of my beau back in England flew out of my mind: it was _James_ now… all James. I wanted him to show me how much he loved me—as I'd felt and experienced in my comatose state. I wanted to feel his warm words at the nape of my neck: for him to save me from the loveless marriage I was soon to be condemned to. I wanted to feel alive—and James was the only person I'd ever felt that with. Would he ever know how much I loved him? I could not just tell him—that would be too bold. But _he_ had expressed his love for me!

Barbossa, in my vivid dreams, had threatened to harm him. If I did not act _now,_ would I ever get a chance to show him just how much I cared for him?

I was just about to draw forward and press my lips to his when I halted myself. _No, not now. Wait for the opportune moment._

Norrington must have sensed my hesitation, for it was then that his fingers untwined from mine, and an untimely interruption from April Seax came in handy. "The doctor's here, Captain," she announced rather breathlessly.

Not wishing to appear inappropriate in any sense of the word, Norrington backed away a decent distance from me, and leaned back in his chair as the doctor walked through the door, smiling broadly.

"Well, well! Miss Perrin. I must say, it is a _truly_ pleasant surprise to see you awake again. I have to admit, I thought you were lost to us."

I swallowed hard, and looked down at the crocheted white blanket covering me. _So did I, dear doctor, so did I._

* * *

><p><strong>Well, well! Once again, let me apologize for the long wait for this chapter, and its surprisingly short length. Also, I must apologize for the fact that I have absolutely <strong>_**no idea**_** when I will be able to write or update this story again. My life has become crazy hectic, and I hate to have that affect my writing, but it has and I am afraid that there's no denying it anymore, and also, I have rather lost inspiration for this fic. I **_**WILL,**_** however, continue, and will try to update at least once a month, as stated above. Meanwhile, God bless, and thanks to those who have stuck with me all this time!**


	31. Falling For You

**AN./ **Well! You can thank my lovely reviewer, **Spirit of the Morning Flower**, for this chapter. It was because of a question that she posed to me in her review for the last chapter that inspired me to write this segment! (Otherwise, I am afraid that I would have been stumped for _far _longer. **:P**). _Anyway_… I hope that you all enjoy it. I also apologize to some of my old readers/reviewers who have left me because of the lack of updates over the past few months. I apologize sincerely, once again—you did not deserve to be abandoned like you were. I fully intend to fix things. I promise. **:D **

Meanwhile, God bless, and _please _**R&R!**

~ Silvertongued Dreams

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Thirty-One<span>: Falling For You**

Almost as soon as the doctor had walked through the doors to examine me did James realize what a tremendous opportunity he had just put off. Never before—in any other respect—had he ever let _fear_ take over his actions and dictate to him which well-trodden path he should journey down. The life he had led so far had been dangerous and adventurous, but _extremely_ well-guarded in regards to love. He'd never felt so _fragile,_ yet _alive_ except for when he was around me. Perhaps he was afraid that if he were to wear his heart on his sleeve, he would lose any chance of being with me, entirely.

… But… hadn't he taken that risk _already _when he'd confessed his love to me on my deathbed? What was the difference with showing me, _now,_ while I was awake and breathing, how much he truly cared?

Before James had a chance to torture himself further, the doctor, who had been examining me, let out a contented sigh and put his stethoscope back into the black medicine bag he'd brought with him.

The air practically stood still with anticipation as we waited for the old surgeon to verbally pronounce his verdict on my health.

It was not long, however, before Norrington could _no longer_ take the suspense.

"_Well…?"_ he demanded rather impatiently: his jade-green eyes penetrating the doctor's slim frame as if they would bore right through his skin if the physician did not soon provide and answer to his query.

"Eh, well, Captain Norrington, I would no longer fret yourself over this charming young woman's account. She appears to be fully recovered from her… erm…." The doctor fumbled for words. "…Her, erm, _mysterious_ illness—yes! Let's put it like that." The man cleared his throat uncomfortably. "_Personally,_ I would not hesitate to call upon her family and deliver her back at once. Needless to say, I am certain that they have been worried _silly_ about her."

Within an instant, the jubilant expression that had dared to grace James's face faded away like the last gleams of a beautiful Caribbean sunset.

"_Ohhh…" _His voice died away into an inaudible whisper. "Yes, yes, but of course. Why hadn't I thought of that?"

Sensing the tension in the air, the doctor quickly packed up his medicine bag. "Well, I'd best be going, m'dear," he said with a wry, almost bittersweet smile as he locked his black bag, and adjusted the spectacles on his nose. "Farwell! I shall see myself out."

I merely smiled at him, and after that, he departed, shutting the door softly behind him.

James's face was pale and agitated as he went over the doctor's words again and again in his mind. Of course! He'd been selfish to think that I was going to stay longer than I really needed to… and the worst part of it was that he _knew_ it, too.

_Why is the idea of her leaving so _devastating, _James?! _he mentally snapped at himself. _Why, because you are a lonely bachelor, you old fool. You _know_ your days are numbered. Men are often married with two or three children by now, and you have yet to acquire a wife worthy of you. What is this_—_this _madness?! _To think I have survived this long, only to fumble desperately for a female companion? Ariana… _James scoffed at himself. _Ariana has become a good friend, though not one I should feel this deeply about at this point in our relationship. I mean, what _if _I deliver her to her family directly, as the doctor recommended? Surely, I would be allowed to visit her again! Right?_

"_James?"_ I asked in a soft voice: leaning forward slightly. He was still sitting beside my bed, his hand precariously close to my lap, and I took the liberty of stroking his fingers to get his attentions when words failed to reach his ears.

Norrington gasped lightly at the contact: his slightly blazing green eyes meeting mine with confusion. "_What?"_

I chucked softly. "I can see that there is much on your mind." I arched my head towards him, trying to show that I was as kind to him now as I ever had been, and that I was willing to listen to whatever was passing through his mind—whether he deemed it utterly silly or ridiculous, or what. "Care to talk about it?"

Norrington sighed heavily. "It's nothing that you would understand, I am afraid."

"Try me," I coaxed with a friendly smile that only made James scoff.

After a few moments, however, he had the courage to look up again at me, and smile.

"You know, you are the only woman I've ever met whose hair actually looks quite stunning after having just woken," he said in a voice so tender that it nearly startled me. He laughed. "I—I grew up with a mother and a sister, so I _know_ what I am talking about." James paused yet again. "You—you have this… mess of curls that cradles your face. _So pretty."_

I was surprised at the warmth of James's touch when he reached out to finger my hair. My eyes fluttered shut for a moment as I enjoyed the brush of his hand against my skin. His fingertips were slightly calloused, but that was to be expected of a hard-working seaman.

Ever so gently, I felt his fingers curl about my ringlets, and his breath—so close—against my neck and ears. _Kiss me!_ I thought desperately. _Darling, kiss me… I know you want to. _

Both of our hearts were racing, and I could hear James's quickened breath, no matter how much he tried to slow it down. We were both very much alone, and behind close doors. A situation that no reputable unwed man or woman would be caught _dead _in.

Yet neither one of us seemed to notice. Neither one of us seemed to notice the gap of distance rapidly closing between us, nor the uncontrollable forces of attraction that seemed to be pushing us closer and closer together.

Breathless, beautiful, gently restrained passion. I felt James's arm snake about my waist as our kiss deepened, and I let out a soft moan of pleasure as his lips lowered to the crook of my neck.

This was all too wonderful—too beautiful to be really happening. What had caused him so suddenly to change his mind? Only moments before, he had been so _hesitant _to manifest his feelings towards me. Only moments before, he was concerned about appearances and propriety—and now, if someone were to storm in, our actions would be deemed far from appropriate.

Is this what love felt like? A delicious pain—knowing that this wondrous feeling of unattainability was all I'd ever feel running with chilling delight down through my veins?

_I am promised to another man, _I kept on telling myself, but to no avail. I only kept on falling in, deeper and deeper.

_You should not be enjoying this as much as you are, Ariana, _the voice inside my head told me, but I fought it off. I was sinking in deeper and deeper, and I wanted to drown in this feeling I'd uncovered. _Remember Alexander!_

_Alexander…._

With a twinge of guilt, I turned my head away, and, as if he'd read my thoughts, James backed away instinctively: placing a hand over his lips. "Oh, my God. I am so sorry. That  
>was—" He fidgeted uneasily as he glanced at the closed door, and he rubbed his arms nervously.<p>

"No, don't be sorry," I replied quickly, feeling equally as awkward.

James forced an uneasy smile.

"I, erm, well… I should… probably… go and send my manservant to notify your family of your… recovery."

James scratched behind his ear agitatedly, quickly averting his gaze when my eyes, sad and sullen, hopeful and apologetic, met his own.

_What did I do wrong? _his eyes seemed to question me, but his own sense of guilt seemed to drown out everything else: even his regret that our moment had not lasted longer.

"Yes," I swallowed hard: looking down at my sheets. I found myself twisting the crocheted white afghan around my fingers as a way to somewhat relieve my stress, "I suppose you should."

Looking rather disappointed, Norrington bit his lower lip until it turned ash-white, and gave me a stiff nod as he slowly backed out of the door, closing it silently behind him.

Oh, God, what had I just done?

* * *

><p><strong>Well, there! First kiss… *swoons*. Enchanting. Well, anyway, I hope you enjoyed! I hope James wasn't OOC at the end. And just to specify, the whole time where Ariana is thinking is occurring during the kiss, which was just a short time. <strong>

**Anyway, thanks for reading! Please leave a review for me! **:D


	32. The Calm Before the Storm

**AN./ **I'm back! **:3 **Thank you so much for sticking with me this far! Sorry it's been so long since my last update! **:P**

So… I now have a poll on my profile. I would be much obliged if you'd vote on it for me! Thank you. **:D**

Also, let's take a moment to commemorate _"My Once in a Lifetime's"_ one-year anniversary, which is coming up on December 24th. **:D **Happy birthday, MOIAL!

Well, I sincerely hope that you enjoy this chapter! Happy reading, and, _please_, don't forget to **R&R**!

**Warnings: **Brief mild language.

**P.S.** Once again, sorry for the delay. This chapter would've been up much sooner had it not been for the unexpected death of my Grandpa & my getting dreadfully sick. With all that going on, It was impossible to write _anything. _And thanks for all of the nice PMs/reviews I got from everyone, sending their condolences to me & my family. They really meant a lot to me. So, once again, thanks, & sorry for taking so long with this chapter.

God bless, and MERRY CHRISTMAS!,

~ Silvertongued Dreams

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Thirty-Two<span>: The Calm Before the Storm**

Merely a few steps outside of my room, James pounded his hands against the wall in frustration. "_Damn!" _he cursed under his breath, gritting his teeth before sighing and resting his back against the darkly-patterned wall. He could scarcely believe it. He'd had it right within his grasp. _Why didn't I tell her?! _he scolded himself as he balled up his hand into a fist at his side. _I told her oft enough when she was asleep. That was the opportune moment, old fool, and you let it slip through your fingers. Why _didn't_ you do it?!_

Of course. Because he was a coward, as much as he hated to admit to it. _Yes, be hard on yourself! _James thought bitterly. _You battle ferociously on the Seven Seas against the pirate scourge that plague the Caribbean, and emerge heroic and brave: praised by all who know you. Yet when you felt the _slightest_ stirring in your heart for Ariana, you shied away like a lovesick puppy! _Norrington scowled under his breath. _There is more to you than this, James. More than risking your life constantly, knowing that there is no one at home, waiting for your return. There is no time to waste! But ah, you already threw away the most opportune moment in the world, James. The most opportune moment in the world_—_one in which to confess your love, and find _real_ happiness in a world that so frequently seeks to destroy even the tiniest trace of it._

Those thoughts made him all the more frustrated, and for a moment, he found relief from his relentless thoughts, when his manservant, Marsdon, walked by with a concerned look on his face, and he gave him the message to deliver the news of my awakening to my family. But alas, after that, his own mind went back to its former thoughts: thoroughly intent on torturing him. _Why was I so at ease, talking to her when she was just… _lying_ there?!_

With yet another heavy sigh, Norrington massaged his temples, and walked down the long corridor, until he reached his cozy parlor, and sitting down, he poured a small glass of merlot. _I guess I'll never know._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Meanwhile, at my family's cottage<strong>_**…**

Steph and Jenna sat in the parlor of our little cottage. Jenna, as usual, was knitting away, although she knew that there would be no practical use for scarves and hats in our new Caribbean home. But what _else_ could she do? She had pored over nearly every one of the few books we had brought over from England—including my own, personal collection—and her hunger for the written word could not be appeased. For since my mysterious illness, there was nothing left for poor Jenna to do than to sit, knit, or read.

Tired of watching her adoptive sister mope around in such boredom, Steph rose from her seat and glanced out of the window.

"It's raining again," Steph noted as she looked out of the window. _Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. _"Just—just like the day Ariana…."

Jenna sighed heavily. "Oh, just say it, Steph! Ariana is _gone_. And whatever illness that afflicts her is far beyond anything this primitive island's doctors can figure out enough—let alone cure!" she snapped, huffing poutily as she fell back hard on her chair and crossed her arms.

Rather than retaliate, Stephanie remained silent. She _knew_ that Jenna was merely frustrated: as was _she,_ but she hid it better than most.

I had always been the balancer—the peacemaker between the two. Jenna was the irritable one, and Steph was the sometimes-vain one. Both were unbelievably loveable, but they could scarcely get along—a fact that seemed to dawn upon them only after my disappearance.

Steph sighed lightly as she gently drew back part of the lace curtain covering the bay window, with her fingers. "Jenna, do you remember the time, back in our old home, in England, when Father used to read aloud to us when we were little?"

Jenna let out a small chuckle. "_Ahh,_ yes. I remember," Jenna returned with a smile.

"Then—Then do you remember the Norse Myths?" Steph asked almost silently.

Jenna furrowed her brow. "Errm… _vaguely." _She suddenly—and rather loudly—leaned forward from her seating position. "Why do you ask?"

Steph merely scoffed at herself. "Oh, it's just—after all we've _been through:_ all the unexplainable things that have happened to us, and all the inexplicable sights we've witnessed… it just had me thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Jenna asked, her arms crossed as she looked at our sister with interest.

She turned to Jenna rather unexpectedly. "Oh, I don't know. From what we've heard… Ariana's illness almost sounds like something akin to the Odinsleep."

Jenna furrowed her brow for a moment: that just struck her as silly. But Steph's face remained resolved, and she merely muttered:

"Sweetheart, after being here for any length of time, believing in enchanted slumbers and gods of Mischief—or Thunder—no longer seem so far-fetched anymore."

As if in agreement, a spindle of lightning shot down from the heavens, and a thunderous boom erupted in the distance… signaling the arrival of a mighty change that would soon change all of our lives, forever.

* * *

><p><em><strong>At the same time, in Lord Beckett's chambers…<strong>_

Lord Beckett was _particularly _irritable that morning. After almost every breath, he'd heave a regal sigh, making the maid currently dusting his elegant black jacket all the more nervous while performing her duties.

"Kitty, lay out my gloves, please, would you, my dear?"

The maid backing away, standing up as straight as a pin. Any maid in her right mind was afraid of Beckett (as he was a notorious womanizer), and this poor young strip of a girl was no exception. "Errm, the white kid gloves, or the black leather ones, sir?" she asked, her voice terribly strained.

"Uh… the white gloves, if you please," Beckett replied mechanically as he adjusted his red-and-gold waistcoat. Sensing the silence, he slowly shifted his gaze, and saw that his maid still had not moved. His gaze was so chilling, she instinctively shivered, and went to work.

With a satisfied smirk, Beckett turned back to his mirror and smoothed out the creases in his jacket and fixed his elaborate cufflinks. Today, he even rimmed his eyes with a thin line of kohl—only scarcely visible—to highlight his icy blue orbs. _Yes_. He was almost ready.

He knew, better than anyone, that the key to getting what he wanted most was to be dressed handsomely for the occasion. And to dress ones words with flattery and clever logical arguments certainly wouldn't harm, either.

He was a wordsmith, and he knew it, too. Reminding himself that he was such a clever devil only made the smug smile dawning on his face only bigger.

His musings were cut short, however, when Ian Mercer entered his quarters, looking as sharp as a tack, and just as merciless as ever.

"My Lord Beckett," came his cut-and-dry voice: "What is the occasion? Is Captain Norrington holding another ball?"

"No," Beckett replied in a low whisper: his lips pursed. "No, we are going to pay a private call."

"To whom, M'Lord?" Mercer asked, furrowing his brows in confusion.

Beckett forced a wry half-smile, and then, swiveled around to meet Mercer's gaze. "_Mercer…_ do you remember, not to long ago, when we spoke of chess?"

"Yes, Lord Beckett, but… I fail to see how—"

He was cut off when Beckett held up a finger to silence him. "_Well_, now, it's time for us to make our move."

_Ah_. Now, he understood. Now, it all became clear: the conversation they had held earlier, and the plans they had so meticulously prepared for execution.

Now, it was time.

And Mercer's maniacal smile became suspiciously bigger, making the maid Kitty—still in the room—leave before she heard anything she might later regret.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Back at the Cottage….<strong>_

"Oh, look! It's finally stopped raining!" Steph exclaimed. "Well, what do you know?!"

"It was bound to end _eventually,"_ Jenna grumbled in an annoying monotone. "I'm just glad it decided to stop _sooner_ than later."

Steph sighed. "Well, I suppose a walk along the beach is in order. Though, after all this rain, the ground is bound to be unbearably muddy."

"Yes," Jenna replied, curling her nose up in disgust at the thought as she moved over to the window to stand beside her step-sister.

One would have thought a hurricane had just hit. Palm branches and coconuts lay strewn across the formerly sandy strand, for the winds accompanying the rain had carried a lot of power. No, the idea of a walk was in no way appealing to her.

"—Oh, look!" Steph cried, but not at all in a tone of excitement, as she leaned out of the window once more. "It appears that we have a visitor."

"Who?" Jenna yawned, completely uninterested.

"Lord… Cutler… _Beckett_."

Jenna snarled.

* * *

><p><em><strong>At the same time, at Lordthorne Hall….<strong>_

I was nearly ready to depart, now, and stood just outside the mansion, waiting for the maids to finish clearing out my things. My mind was in a dense fog—and not an entirely pleasant one. My thoughts roamed about aimlessly in my brain—searching for a safe haven, but they remained as restless as I myself did.

My lips still tingled from when James had kissed them. I dared not touch them, lest the magical feeling would go away. I still could not believe all that had happened—and my heart broke again when I remembered how sincerely he had apologized for his actions.

I felt so wicked for having enjoyed his touch so much—such feelings should be reserved for my future husband, only. But the more and more I thought about my fiancé, the more and more I realized how much I did not love him… and how unfair I was being to him.

… Of course, I could never let anyone know that, now. It was implicitly obvious that James had regretted our kiss as soon as it had ended. And with such a dismal thought in mind, I inhaled sharply, in an attempt to keep back the small tears forming at the corner of my eyes.

I had read so many novels in my lifetime—books about travel and adventure: romance and intrigue, and books that could widen my knowledge in manly arts such as swordsmanship, and any other things that had held my interest. Yet not a one of them had prepared me for this feeling.

I was head over heels in love, and I could never let Norrington know.

Sighing heavily, I retreated to the cement bench positioned just outside the front door as I waited for April Seax to come back out with my things, and edgily adjusted my hair, which was up in a loose bun under the netted pink hat I'd been wearing when I fell ill at James's doorstep.

As I waited with dwindling patience, and unexpected Caribbean wind rustled through the peaceful palm fronds, and for a moment, I was distracted from my musings. Change was in the air—I could feel it. But, was it for good or ill?

Who knows when I would find out.

Just before my train of thought could take another dramatic turn, I heard footsteps, and when I turned, there was James, standing beside me.

_Norrington._

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, and did all in my power to avoid his intense gaze. When I dared to look at him, he was smiling at me.

"Miss Perrin—a—about earlier—"

"—Yes. Let's not talk about that, all right? I know we both regretted that kiss almost as soon as it happened." My voice sounded much harsher than I had intended it to be, but I suppose that was because I was under the impression that his part of our romantic moment had been acted on by pure impulse.

Norrington's cheery expression soon changed to sport a confused one, and he furrowed his brow, looking slightly hurt. "Oh—_Ohh."_ He lowered his head and blinked twice. "_All right." What am I supposed to do now? _he thought to himself as he scratched nervously behind his ear. _I thought she might have _fancied _me…. _

Awkward moments filled the still air like poison. Each moment felt like an eternity, and I struggled to keep my composure as calm as possible. I could only hope that the carriage destined to take me home would be ready soon.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the abrupt ending! This was <strong>_**originally**_** going to be a much longer chapter, but I did not have the time to finish it so I will break it off here. I wanted to give all of my readers just a **_**little taste**_** of what's to come. The next chapter is going to contain an enormous surprise, so be prepared! **

**Sadly, I cannot promise that another chapter will be up soon, but if you review, and pray that my life gets less hectic, we'll take it from there, shall we, loves? **:D


	33. In Which a Bargain is Struck

**AN./ **Yay for another chapter! I hope that _**My Once in a Lifetime **_continues to be enjoyed by you all, & thank you _so much_ for your lovely reviews. This story is currently the 3rd most reviewed Norrington romance story on this site. Thank you all, loves. I couldn't have done it without you! … or _James_. **:D** Let me just warn you, now, though, that the major plot twist that I have been prepping you for all along starts to unfold in _this chapter._

I also wish to apologize for my lengthy absence. I could spend paragraphs explaining why (loss of numerous family members, job, college, etc.), but I merely wish to express my deepest sorrow at not posting sooner. Not once has this story left my mind in the 2 years I've been gone. I hope you shall all soon forgive me for abandoning you! As promised, this story WILL BE COMPLETED.

Please be advised that if you are a little lost, you may want to go back and read Chapter 16 as well as the last chapter. So sorry about that.

Also- LIKE MY PAGE ON FACEBOOK! Yes, that's right: Silvertongued Dreams is on Facebook. Like and follow for immediate story updates and progress stats! Thanks!

**Warnings: **Major plot twist ahead. (DON'T HIT ME!) **xD**

God bless, and please, **R&R**! Reviews are fuel!, so if you'd like a new chapter soon, please take the time to review, and suggestions are more than welcome!

Enjoy!

**~ Silvertongued Dreams**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Thirty-Three<span>: In Which a Bargain is Struck**

_**Back at the Cottage….**_

A gentle rap at the door made Lord Beckett's visit all the more real to my two sisters. Jenna insisted on moving out of the parlor before the unwanted guest manifested himself and 'contaminated the house with his presence'.

Steph heaved a sigh, but did not complain when she was left alone to receive Cutler and his assistant, Mr. Mercer.

"Miss, Lord Beckett and a Mr. Ian Mercer are here to see your father. Shall I show them in?"

Sensing that the men might be lurking just outside the door, and could hear everything she said, Steph groaned and said: "Fine. Tell them to come in."

"Very well, Miss," the maid replied, dipping a rushed curtsy before departing to fetch our father's visitors.

Steph sighed yet again.

She could never remember sighing so much in all her life. And, deep down, she knew her premonitions were only the beginning of what would prove to be a tragic day.

Yet, not even _she_ could have predicted how tragic it was about to become.

—*—

"Ah, Miss Stephanie," Lord Beckett began with a false air of pleasantry and decorum as he extended his gloved hand towards her, which she reluctantly took. " 'Tis so good to see you again—especially after hearing the utter _tragedy_ that has befallen your family!" With those words, he kissed her hand. _Not entirely unpleasant, actually,_ Steph thought to herself in surprise.

"Yes, Ariana has been indisposed for quite some weeks," Steph said as she gently removed her hand from Cutler's grip. "Fortunately, though, Captain Norrington found her and has had the best doctors in the Caribbean attending to her."

_Captain Norrington._ The words tasted bitter to Beckett as Steph said them. He could be a problem.

"Ahh," he muttered under his breath, shifting his gaze to the floor. "Well, tell me, Miss Stephanie, is your father in at present? Mr. Mercer and I have a most _pressing_ engagement with him."

Steph did not like the sound of that, but nevertheless, she felt compelled to tell him the truth. She'd never been a very good liar, so what was the point?

"He, errmmm… he… he's in his study. I shall have the maid go fetch him, if you'd like."

"Yes, please do," Beckett returned as he sat down and poshly removed his kid gloves whilst Steph consulted the maid and sent her off to retrieve Mr. Ashworth.

_Yes, things will go exceedingly well indeed, _Lord Beckett thought to himself with a smug smirk as the man of the house walked into the parlor, his face pale with worry. _He is a weak man: he is naught but clay in my powerful hands._

"L—Lord Beckett," my father said, adjusting the spectacles on the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, indeed," Beckett smiled rather creepily: rising from his seat. "So glad you could join me. Now, if you wouldn't mind, Miss Stephanie, I'd like to speak to your father… _privately."_

With a reluctant nod, Steph bowed her head and scurried out of the room. _What could this possibly be about? _she thought to herself as she climbed up the steps to the second floor.

"_Is he gone?" _Jenna's voice came in an agitated whisper.

"Who, short-stack? No, he's still here, along with that creepy Mr. Mercer."

Jenna shivered. "I have an air grate in my room. If you wish, I suggest that we _indulge_ our sense of curiosity and take in the luxury of listening in on this clearly 'private' conversation."

Steph grinned winsomely in a vain attempt to force back the giggle erupting in her throat.

—*—

MOMENTS LATER, the girls found themselves situated directly above Mr. Ashworth's office. Jenna's room was small and cramped: the low ceiling so dusty and crowded that even a person of such short stature as Steph had to crouch a little to make her way through the doorway. She stifled a groan when she lifted her head too soon, and it collided with the roof of the cottage. Jenna turned around sharply, a finger at her lips. "Shhh!" she exclaimed in a whisper. "If we can hear them, they will most certainly be able to hear us, if we make too much noise."

With a silent nod, Steph crawled beside Jenna and they knelt on the door beside the grate, looking down through the latticed vent in eager anticipation.

Mr. Ashworth forced a wan, uneasy smile as he walked up to his desk. With minimal movement, he gestured to Lord Beckett to take a seat, and began to speak in a hushed whisper. Watching in silence, Mr. Mercer stood at the back of the room, his lips taut.

"I can't hear a blessed thing," Jenna sighed, looking at Steph. As their gazes met, Steph began to look uneasy, making an already uncomfortable Jenna slightly more anxious.

It was as she had expected. Steph had that sixth sense about her—she could always tell when something bad was going to happen. And, more often than not, Jenna could pick up on Steph's fears. She could cut that tension of fear and anticipation with a knife.

As they looked down the grate once again, their ears and eyes more _keenly_ focused, both of them gulped uncertainly. The conversation was becoming somewhat more hushed, now, and Mr. Ashworth looked quite concerned.

_They could only hope that what was about to be uttered was nothing of the ominous nature._

But, then again, this was Lord Beckett. And, Lord Beckett was not a man to merely exchange pleasantries. Not if it could be helped.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Meanwhile, in Mr. Ashworth's Study…<strong>_

Lord Cutler Beckett slouched slightly in his chair, the start of a sly smirk playing almost hesitantly on the corners of his lips. "There is no need to look so tense, Mr. Ashworth," he began: looking first at my father, then, with a critical eye, scanning the humble and scanty decorations that surrounded him in the small office he currently found himself in. "Let me assure you that the matter of business I am here to discuss should be alarming. In fact, you might even welcome it."

Unsurprisingly, my father did not look any less anxious. He knew what Lord Beckett was capable of, and it _did_ frighten him.

Nevertheless, regardless of my father's lack of a response, Lord Beckett continued.

"As you are well aware," Beckett began, examining his nails: "the sale of your pristine London estate was not sufficient enough to repay your debt to the East India Company, which I represent." He cleared his throat: his eyes darkening with hatred. "That meddlesome privateer, _Jack Sparrow,_ caused us no small amount of grief, when he unexpectedly 'sprouted a conscience'. But, these things have already been discussed," he continued, reaching over the desk for the vial of port: pouring a glass for both himself and my father. Once the glass had been passed, and he took a dainty sip, he continued. "The long and short of it is, Ashworth, that the conclusion of our relationship seems far from over. With over £15,000 still owed in debt to me, it would appear that you have dug yourself into quite the pit."

"Enough with the analogies," Mr. Ashworth returned: sounding far more vehement than he had dared to hope he could. "If it is business you wish to conduct, then, by all means, let us be on with it."

Leaning forward, Beckett smirked.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Meanwhile, at Lordthorne Hall….<strong>_

Each moment waiting for that carriage to arrive seemed like an eternity. Even though my back was turned to James, I could still sense that he was looking at me, and his eyes—his beautiful, _haunting_ eyes—bored into my back like slow-burning fire: warm, but painful, as if I, like a moth drawn to flame, had dared to come too close to its alluring heat. But, why?

Perhaps I was afraid. Afraid to let myself open up. Afraid to do what my heart wanted to do, not what others _expected _me to do. Afraid of the passion I'd felt when my lips had met James's. _James_. He was intoxicating, like a forbidden fruit, and the fact that I wanted his love so desperately terrified me. That kiss had not lied… and, perhaps, that is why I had been most afraid of what James was going to say before I had prevented him from speaking further, only moments previous.

Before I had the chance to ponder further on the complexities of everything unraveling in my mind, I was jolted back into reality by the sudden halt of Norrington's horse-drawn carriage.

"Are ye ready, Miss?" came the voice of the carriage driver: his ornery Cornish accent making him rather endearing. He seemed to be an overly jovial bloke, with a largely toothless grin, but I didn't mind. _As long as he was taking me away from here. This place… of such sweet and _tremendous _torture._

I gasped slightly, jumping a little as I realized that his question had been directed at me. "Oh, yes! I'm terribly sorry," I apologized.

Norrington's elderly manservant Marsdon hurried forward, carrying two small, maroon-coloured suitcases that the maid April Seax had packed full of necessaries to aid in my recovery that wouldn't already have been found at my cottage. Norrington had been quite insistent.

I smiled to myself at that thought: it made me feel warm inside to be so cared for, and a surge of renewed appreciation gave me the courage to turn around. When I looked up, I was both pleased and dismayed to see James still standing there, watching over me. His back was leaned against the wall of the mansion, and he looked down, as if unsure what to do or say. What was considered proper for us to say, now? Or had we already crossed that line?

"_James _—_"_ I began, my voice slow and shaky. He lifted his head: his eyes livening up ever so slightly.

Letting my feelings overcome me, I rushed over to him, winding my arms tight about his neck. "Thank you for everything," I murmured into his ear: my breath warm against his nape.

Though no words came, I could feel something far deeper: far more emotional, as he returned my embrace and pressed his hand against the small of my back, pulling me in closer.

And then, a dreaded pearl of a tear trickled down his cheek, and onto my own.

"_It was an honour, my dear Ariana," _he returned in an almost inaudible whisper as I broke from his embrace and headed into the carriage, and out of sight: my heart stinging with regret at the words that had been left unsaid… by _both_ of us.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Back at the Cottage….<strong>_

Words could not begin to describe thelook of intense horror that crossed my father's face. The beads of stress-induced sweat clung anxiously to his pale frame. Looks of agonizing concern were etched _deep _into his face. Lord Beckett laughed.

"No… please, God, no!" Father wept. "You want to take my Ariana?! You cannot have her. As a father, I will not allow it!" he spat. "To think up such an atrocity is an all new low… even for you, Beckett!"

"I am afraid that not even your prayers will be able to help you, now," Lord Beckett returned in unaffected tones: his eyes dancing with devilish delight. "Either you agree to this fair exchange, or you face complete and total ruin: the world will know of your involvement in the slave trade, and you will never be looked upon in the same manner again. Your choice."

Father gulped: the water still in his eyes as he dared to meet Beckett's fierce, unyielding gaze.

"Come, come, now, Mr. Ashworth. What I am not asking is not so terrible. She will be well-looked after as my wife. Is not your reputation worth that much to you?" He paused for effect. "After all…." he taunted dramatically.. "…It is not as if you have dabbled in such dealings before. A life of servitude… for a life of leisure?"

A fire lit in my father's eyes. He was enraged beyond words. "But… this is different. She is precious to me!"

Beckett leaned across the table. "I am afraid that there shall be no convincing me. Whether you wish it or not, you _will_ give in to my terms. For, after all… _every_ _man_ has his price… even for what he hoped never to sell."

Father's eyes drifted downward. Lord Beckett was right. He did have that way of tending to get everything he wanted.

"If—If Ariana agrees…." he began, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "Then, _perhaps_…._"_

"—Agrees to what, Father?" I asked, cautiously entering the room. Norrington's carriage had just departed, leaving me at my home… but the welcome and joy I had been expecting to greet me was nowhere to be found. Sensing the tension in the air, my gaze moved from my father's quaking frame, to the man sitting in front of me. He may have been seated, but I knew _exactly_ who he was.

As if reading my thoughts, Lord Beckett stood, smiling at me charmingly. I returned a half-hearted smirk: starting to feel rather nauseous.

"Well, there you are, my dear," he began, walking up to me and placing his hand on the small of my back as if coaxing me to move forward. "Please, do have a seat. We were just talking about you."

* * *

><p><strong>Ooooh! Bet you didn't see that one coming, did you?! Please, leave <span>review<span>: guess what is next! I will try to update again soon. ****I have not forgotten you. **:o)


	34. This Changes Everything

**AN./ **I am so pumped to start working on this again! Please, continue your support, and I wish to send a big THANK YOU out to all of those who reviewed. You really made my day, you guys! I have missed hearing from you all.

Please be aware that my major plot twist is unveiled totally in this chapter! Be prepared!**_ (*and please don't hit me, lol!*)_** Also, _please_... if you have any questions or story suggestions along with feedback, please, (including you silent lurkers!) **;)** **R&R**! Much thanks!

**Warnings: **Contains mentions of suggestive content.

God bless,

**~ Silvertongued Dreams**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter Thirty-Four<strong>**: This Changes Everything**

Norrington stood there for some moments in unbelief, his gaze still fixed intently in the distance, where my carriage had faded out of sight. As the carriage rolled off, and the sound of the crunching, crackling cobblestone walkway had all but died away in his ears, James noticed something. A nagging in his chest that he had never felt before. A desperate, unyielding, unrelenting pain that would not waver.

For once in his life, he had failed. And he could never forgive himself for it.

What had he been thinking?! Countless times, I had left the door open for him to speak his heart: to his eyes, more than welcome to his subtle advances—but the words had never come. Even after that one kiss we'd shared—that gentle touch that had simmered into something far more deep—he'd failed to have the courage to tell me what he felt. _Failed_. James scoffed inwardly. For all the strength and determination he had to see each battle through, he could not even muster an ounce of that strength when he had needed it most. _Unbelievable._

Then again, this was an entirely different sort of affair.

Norrington tried desperately to catch his breath, but his short, panicked breaths made such a task hard to accomplish. He was stranded on an island of trouble: marooned, as it were, on an island of romantic complexities, and it was all his own doing.

And the truth of that would forever torture him.

— "Ah, Captain Norrington!" came the shrill voice of Lieutenant Gillette, all of a sudden. Startled by the interruption of his musings, Norrington turned sharply on his heel, only to see his dear friend running: his wig slightly disheveled and askew. As he ran, Gillette tried to adjust it mid-run: partly flattening the top of his tricorne hat.

Captain Norrington could not help but smirk.

"Greetings, Lieutenant Gillette," Norrington returned: forcing himself to remove any emotion from his face. "What brings you here?"

"Perhaps that question is better asked of me, dear James," came the voice of Elanor Westfall, who chuckled gaily: Lieutenant Groves right behind her. "You see, per my request—" (here, Gillette shot her a reproachful, corrective look)— "We actually came to pay a call to Miss Perrin. Indeed, the three of us had just been discussing our friend when we happened to encounter the doctor in town, and he informed us of her rather unexpected awakening!" she continued, her eyes beaming. "Pray, tell me, where is she, that we might visit with her?"

At the mention of my name, James stiffened, and he folded his hands behind his back: his default pose when he knew it was best to remain silent. "Errm, actually," he began, turning away from them to stare off into the distance: "I am afraid that you just missed her. She… decided to return home," he finished in an almost deadening whisper: his heart sinking even deeper with his words.

Even with his back turned to them, Elanor could sense that something was terribly wrong, and sidled up to the good captain's side: winding her arm in his. "James… what is wrong?" she whispered so only she could hear: her head nestled into his shoulder comfortingly. "You do not seem yourself."

"I suppose it was foolish to hope that I could have her to myself forever," he scoffed, looking slightly downward.

Elanor paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Have you told her how you feel?" she asked: her tone low and serious, as she looked up from Norrington's shoulder, to meet his gaze.

James turned to her: his looking bearing all his sorrow and regret. She saw nothing but raw honesty in his eyes.

"You know, it is not too late," Elanor began with an encouraging smile that sent Norrington's heart aflutter with excitement.

"… James… love is a curious beast. Too often, many truly beautiful things go unsaid that have the power to change lives for the better… all because of the same dilemma that faces you. But, how can you know what might happen if you never try?" Elanor put forth: knowing full well how I felt. "Do not be deceived by how things appear, or daunted by what you fear might be… for I have it on good authority that our _Ariana_ is hiding behind the same veil of propriety as yourself, and is likely feeling just as miserable you are that this very moment." She paused, a smile spreading across her face. "_Go on._ Go after her."

Norrington smiled, down at his old friend, hope stirring within him anew.

**—*—**

_I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my neck._ I could feel his breath far too close for comfort against my neck. Lord Cutler Beckett sat beside me, his fingers gently tugging strands of my hair behind my ear. I still couldn't believe my father would allow a man to touch me in such a manner—_especially _without consent, but, in retrospect, I suppose that his weak hands were tied. Yet, such knowledge did not stop my quavering. If it had been any other man, such an act of intimacy would have been touching. But these hands knew nothing of love. They only knew the want of power, and of lust.

I listened to my father in complete disbelief as he spelled out the details of Beckett's proposed bargain, and all that we had at stake: my father's credibility as a businessman, the social status and reputation of our family, and how unappealing a marriage prospect my sisters and I would make, should the truth of my father's dealings with the East India Trading company be let out. Every so often during the course of the conversation, Lord Beckett would interject his own thoughts and reassurances: making sure to keep me calm as I heard them out.

Yet, nothing either of them did or said could change the blank look on my face: the look of suppressed shock, anger, and betrayal at such insinuations. _**Marry**__ Lord Beckett?! _The words hit me like a bucket of cold water to the face. Why did my father say nothing when he saw how desperate I was for consolation? Even though Lord Beckett was an immensely powerful man, I wished, right then, more than anything, that my father would find the strength to intervene, and protect me, and hold me, as was his duty.

Unfortunately for me, though, such was not to be the case. At last, however, I found the courage to speak for myself.

"But, Father… what about Alexander? Surely, you have not forgotten my promise to him!" I exclaimed. _Poor Alexander. _I had never loved him in the manner he deserved, yet now, he was my only hope of escaping a truly grueling fate. _He does not deserve me. _How awful, and how strange! To think I could be capable of using the love of my Alexander Forbes only as a crutch: pulling it out whenever I saw fit: particularly in a situation such as this. For two months, I'd lived my life with scarcely a thought of my beau… jaunting about the Caribbean with my new acquaintances as if I were a young maid in London's popular circles, just come out into society. Yet, now, it was if he had never left my thoughts. _Stupid Ariana. How wretched of you!_

As my thoughts traveled back in time, I blushed with shame at how I'd acted. How I'd thought… and who I had thought so lovingly about. A man who was not Alexander: the wonderful person who had promised to remain faithful to me even though years and leagues separated us, until we could meet again.

"—Pray, tell me, who is this… _Alexander?"_ came the voice of Lord Beckett, breaking me from my solemn reverie. His tone was somewhat sneering and rather… superior, as he shiftily reached for a shortbread cookie from the small silver platter on the tea tray situated on my father's desk. "Is he going to be a problem?"

That was it. _I had had enough._

"Pray, Lord Beckett, do not _presume_ to think that I have, somehow, agreed to your proposition!" I nearly shouted: shooting from my chair. I think I startled him. Turning sharply towards the lord, I towered over his seated form when I stood at my full height. "Indeed, if anything, you have nauseated me with your _insipid_ offer. I could never care for you in the way you seem to desire, and to pretend otherwise would be a sin of egregious proportions. I am not a _toy_, Lord Beckett. I would have you know that I am a strong, capable young woman who knows her own mind." I paused for effect. Unbeknownst to me, the lightning scar on my forehead had begun to flash faintly. "The young man whom I have just mentioned is the person I have promised to marry, and I do not renege or my promises. Make of that what you will."

From the corner of my eye, I could see Father: his gold-rimmed monocle falling off the brim of his nose. He was trembling with fear at how his enemy would react, but, at the same time, I could tell from the gleam in his eyes that he was _immensely _proud that I had stood up for myself.

Meanwhile, I stared determinedly into Cutler Beckett's eyes: neither one of us relenting. And then, he laughed. He looked rather pleased with himself, and I had no idea why. And that frightened me.

I furrowed my brow in confusion as Lord Beckett rose from his chair.

"Ah, dear Ariana, how beauteous you are when roused," he chortled, circling me: completely unmoved. I saw his eye drift towards my forehead briefly, then dart back down to my hand as he seized it with unexpected fervor. He spun me towards him: our bodies close. "_My pet," _he spoke faintly: "do not think me unaware of your capabilities. They are one of the many qualities that attract me to you."

I shivered slightly.

"Lord knows that I may well be, as one comrade of mine put it 'as dull as a lamppost'*," Beckett began, moving past me, now: "but I am incredibly rich, and I have a habit of getting what I want." He shot a glare at my father. "As things stand, now, your family stands to lose much, should the information I hold in my posession be unleashed to the public." He then turned to me, once more. "And we wouldn't want _that,_ now, would we?" His tone was almost sickly sweet, and I turned away from his penetrating gaze.

I said nothing.

"Write to this man, Forbes. Break off your engagement. Surely, you see that this is what is meant to be?" Beckett began coaxingly, and, after a pause, he sidled up to me once more. When I did not respond to his words, he leaned forward, whispering sensually into my ear. "I had supposed that the proposition of marriage would be far more palpable to you than what I'd initially planned." His eyes lit up as if on fire. "Oh, yes, my darling. A delicious scandal. I _want_ you Ariana, and I shall have you. It is merely your choice. Marry me, and live a life of luxury… or you can live the rest of your life skulking around in the dark, clawing at the remnants of your family's honour in an attempt to escape from a scandalous liaison?"

My breaths were shallow as I measured my options. In all my life, I had never once wished to be any different than how I was. But, at that moment, I wished I did not care so much for those around me: that I could act according to what would please and serve _me:_ not necessarily those around me. But, moments later, it was still me, and it was clear what had to be done, despite what I wanted.

"Lord Beckett… if I agree to this, do you promise that you will expunge my father of any remaining debt, and keep this business between us alone?" I pleaded with determination.

"You have my word."

"Then…" I gulped hard, "L—Lord Beckett, I would be honored… to become your wife."

Father looked horrified, but, knowing better than to say anything about a matter that was entirely of his hands, took to massaging his sore temples.

Beckett smiled triumphantly, taking my hand in his and kissing it. "I thought as much."

* * *

><p><strong>Oooh! You didn't expect that, did you?!<strong> (*Please, don't hit me!*) **Does Lord Beckett know about Ariana's powers? Will he keep true to his word? And what will James say once he finds out what has happened?! Can their love endure this trial? Things are about to get verrry complicated, and I hope you enjoy it! Please, **R&R**, and comment with your theories as to what will happen next! Thank you, guys!**

*** Also, did anyone catch that "dull as a lamppost" reference? It was a slight nod to Chapter 8, where Captain Norrington himself accuses Beckett of being such. Haha. **:)


	35. The Changing Tides

**AN./ **Ooooh, I suppose I must be rather evil with this enormous plot twist that has started to unravel. But, fear not! Despite all that is going on in my life, I am devoted to updating this story at least once a week until it is completed. I certainly hope you all are enjoying this little tale I have spun! Who said the path to true love was ever easy, eh? **;) **Anyway, I apologize if this chapter is not up to par… I have a new obsession that has been taking me over for the past month, and I am feeling unwell at the moment, so, please, let me know how I did.

Anyway… please, don't forget to **R&R****! **Thank you all so very much. God bless, and happy reading!

**Updates****:** Before anything else, I just wanted to remind you guys to check out my updated profile page! There, you will find a link to my Facebook author fanpage, which, if you 'like' and 'follow', will give you instantaneous updates on all of my story postings!

(Also, if there are any **NARUTO** fans lurking about, I shall soon be delving into some multi-chaptered fics. Please let me know if any current readers will be interested! Story summaries are on my profile—have a look-see! Please and thank you. **:3** )

**P.S.****:** I re-uploaded an old PotC fanfic of mine, centered on dear Gillette and Groves, actually, called _'Living in Our Hearts'_. Please, go check it out (if you had already read it years ago, don't worry: I re-submitted your reviews anonymously)! Thank you!

**~ Silvertongued Dreams**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter Thirty-Five<strong>**: The Changing Tides**

Elanor smiled as she watched Norrington take off from the stables: a look of fierce determination on his face. This was the James she remembered, and, even if that look he was wearing was not for her, she was happy to see him look so _alive_ once again. _God be with you, James…, _she thought to herself as he gave her a stern nod, and, pressuring the horse to start, galloped out of sight.

Moments later, Gillette panted as he trudged up to his cousin. "That's it. What did you say to him?" he asked: completely clueless.

"Oh, I merely reminded him of something," Elanor began with a smirk.

"Of what, exactly?"

Elanor peered into the distant horizon, a thoughtful look on her face. "That, if you want something with all of your heart, then there is no risk that should not be made, to see it through."

"What is this, dear cousin? Determined to speak in riddles today, I see!" Gillette scoffed. "Well, unfortunately, I have not the time to try to decipher your meaning. Since our meeting with Miss Perrin was apparently not meant to be, I have plenty of work left for me at the Fort."

"Oh, honestly, Phillip! You cannot be _that _clueless," Elanor retorted: rolling her eyes as she stooped to pick up a pebble on the walkway in an effort to vent her frustration: tossing it carelessly in the way of Groves, who only just managed to duck in time. He let out a small, nervous chuckle, then dared to approach closer when he saw the vexed look on her face. He had heard the last of the conversation betwixt Elanor and his comrade, and looked around in confusion. "Where has the good captain gotten to?" he asked, stumbling as he made an awkward turn around.

"I was just asking the same thing," Gillette returned.

Elanor looked down at the ground thoughtfully as Groves sidled up to her side and wound his arm in hers.

"He has gone after Miss Perrin," she began in a soft whisper, and a smile graced her face as she turned to face her loving beau. "To confess his love, lest his heart should burst from keeping it secret, any longer."

—*****—

The insistent thumping of hooves against cobblestone rang in Norrington's ears as he urged his horse Rochester to pick up speed. Flying out of the stable with determination, James kept his gaze dead ahead, and, passing through the gates of Lordthorne Hall, cut across to the beach, and head for our little cottage.

Never before had an obstacle seemed so unsurpassable and terrifying, but never before had one this important been set before him. Love was a strange beast, indeed: like an incurable disease, but, _oh, _so gratifying. It could take a man usually so formidable in battle, and stoic to a fault, and undo him completely. He felt so lost, so desirous, and so… yearning. How had he never felt this way before?

_What a delicious pain love is, _he mused as he rode harder. The cottage was just within his view, now. _I only hope that I am not mistaken in thinking that she feels the same way, too._

James's heart seemed to stop in his chest when he realized that he was not alone. No sooner had he made a complete stop at the entryway to the cottage than he caught glimpse of a distressing scene unfolding. Three figures ambled by the open window: two of them clearly overwhelmed, but he could not see their faces. But then, one of the three turned. Was that… _Lord Beckett _inside? Yes, indeed it was… and I was pacing the floor, hand to my head, _distraught, _as if trying to strike a painful memory from my recollection. As he pulled his horse to a stop and dismantled: tying the reins to our small, worn fencepost, he dared to take a closer look. _Propriety be damned,_ he thought to himself as he ducked behind the bush so he could observe what was going on, unnoticed. Clearly, something was amiss. Something _major_ was going on beyond those bay windows, and he needed to know if there was something he could do about it.

Then again, this was not his business. He had no idea what on earth was going on, and whether or not I or my family would like him to interfere. But, oh God, if only he knew how much of a saving grace his interference would have been!

Just as Norrington decided against rushing into the cottage, Lord Beckett exited from our residence, and the captain watched him carefully. Something about that smug smirk of Beckett's made Norrington sick to his stomach. He had never really been able to tolerate the man, but the expression his senior-ranking officer now wore nauseated him more than anything he'd seen from him before. _There's something about the glint in those eyes…._

Taking great care not to be seen, James cautiously walked around to the other side of the house, until a harsh command from Lord Beckett to his carriage driver informed him that he was departing the scene.

_Finally, _James thought. To him, the moments of waiting had seemed like hours.

If only he knew how much longer this terrible time had seemed to me.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Meanwhile, inside the cottage….<strong>_

"Oh, my dear girl…."

"Father… do not even _speak _to me right now," I began, incredibly flustered. "Have you any idea what this is going to do to me? Not to mention to Alexander, or… or, what friends I've managed to make here, for that matter," I quickly added: trying to banish James from my mind. _Not now, Ariana. Not now. _"Keeping such a massive secret from those I hold dearest will simply _kill me, _Father! And, is it not worse that I must now be confined: _trapped_ in a loveless marriage?" I posed.

"_Believe me, _my darling child: if it were within my power to change all that I have done, I would do so in a heartbeat. It is with great _shame_ that I must live with this guilt… to acknowledge that, on top of everything else, I have failed in my chief duty as a father. To protect you."

"To protect us from scandal? Yes. Yes, in that regard, you have failed miserably: I shall not deny that," I muttered under my breath. "But, I do not love you any less than I would have otherwise. You are a tender and loving man, dear Father. And, deep down, I think you realize that it was your naiveté that allowed you to become so entangled with such a serpentine schemer as Lord Beckett."

My father, Mr. Ashworth, nodded sadly. "It is indeed, too true, Ariana." He gulped. "Are you certain? Are you sure that you shall be able to manage it?"

I looked down at the Oriental carpet and heaved a great sigh. And, that, it seemed, was answer enough, for, as soon as my lips began to quaver with sadness, my father came over and enveloped me in a comforting embrace.

In his arms, at least, I could find some minimal comfort, after all.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Just outside….<strong>_

James Norrington had always been a man of stoic taste, but as he watched the confusing scene unfold before him, he could not help but worry, and that worry began to manifest itself in his eyes. Was I all right? Was now the best time to act?

Perhaps—but, perhaps not. In any case, he could wait no more. It was now, or never.

_It was a matter of __**duty**__, and he could delay it no longer._

Emerging from behind the bush, Norrington took great care to brush off the bristles that had managed to penetrate his thick wool overcoat, and mustered up the courage to knock on the door.

For some moments, James waited in silence, until the sound of shuffling feet greeted his ears just as he was about to turn away in hopelessness. It was then that the door opened, and our maid, looking rather exhausted, answered the door with a nervous chuckle.

—*****—

James smiled reassuringly as the maid opened the slightly-squeaking door, and tried to keep his expression blank, as was expected of him. As he waited in the main hall to be introduced, Norrington took meticulous notice of his surroundings. _I did not expect this cottage to be so small, _he thought to himself. _This entryway is scarcely larger than my guest quarters at Lordthorne Hall. What must Lord Beckett be thinking… leasing a small building to a tasteful family such as this?_

"—Mr. Ashworth, Miss Perrin, there is a Captain Norrington waiting out in hall. Shall I send him in?"

My father looked at me searchingly, but I turned swiftly to the maid before I even had a chance to think. "Yes, Prudence. Please, show him in."

My eyes were gleaming, and I could tell that Father could sense the traces of a smile on my face. I looked sunnier than I had all week, and when he looked at me, he hung his head and sighed heavily: guilt written all over his careworn face.

_Curse you, Ariana, _I thought angrily to myself: turning away sharply. _You must learn to restrain these feelings! You cannot afford to think that way of him. Not anymore._

And with that, I stormed out of the room, passing by a befuddled James Norrington as I made my way for the door. _There is no other choice, although it pains me to even consider it._ My heart stopped a moment. _I must never speak to him again._

—*—

_There is nothing quite so therapeutic as a breath of fresh sea air, _I thought to myself as I inhaled deeply of the heavenly oceanic scent. The sea had always comforted me—particularly these past few weeks, but now… mixed with that sense of calm was an emerging unrest. For, now, the very thing I used to seek comfort from was the one thing that reminded me of the man I really, _truly_ loved… the man I could not marry.

And so, yet another force, once so strong, constant, and reliable, had changed… like the ever-changing tides of the sea.

"Miss Perrin…" came the voice of James Norrington: persistent and concerned. I closed my eyes. _He had followed me out._

"—Pray, I do not wish to pry… and if my presence is in any way unwanted, please, say the word, and I shall be on my way." His words sounded so desperate and earnest, it broke my heart a little. "But, I must speak my mind."

I turned around: forcing a wan smile. "Nonsense, Captain Norrington. I am sorry if my demeanor seems at all unwelcoming. It—" I stalled for a moment, trying to think of the right words to say. "It has been a rather trying day."

"Then my words shall be brief," he urged: approaching me with a tenderness and fervor that warmed my breaking heart. "Earlier, you told me to forget the kiss that we shared. But I cannot forget, Miss Perrin. I cannot not _forget_ that bliss I felt… when we shared that special moment." James paused for a moment, struggling for the right words. "Pardon me if I seem to candid, but this _will not do_. Spare me this agony… Ariana… and tell me if you feel as miserable as I do! I must know the truth, even if it breaks me." Norrington fell to his knees, and I was stunned. _Oh, dear God, don't do this to me,_ I mentally begged. "Ariana… do you think you could find it within your heart, to join yourself to me… as my wife?"

I exhaled shakily: the tears still in my eyes. _God, yes. Yes, yes, yes!_

_But then, _I swallowed hard.

"Ohhh, James," I returned in a choked voice.

He looked at me: furrowing his brows with concern and anguish.

"James… there is something you need to know.

I paused.

"I—I am engaged to another man. And his name… is Lord Cutler Beckett."

* * *

><p><strong>I really hate to end it here, but I am afraid that I could not muster up any more energy for this chapter. Sorry for the cliffie! I plan to update soon: once my work load winds down, I take my next college exam, and recover from my cold. God bless, and <strong>_**please…**_** don't forget to **R&R**! Thank you all, and God bless, my lovelies. **:)


	36. Love Will Find A Way

**AN./ **Sorry that this chapter is so short and sappy… please, forgive me. Still recovering from my cold, so please don't kill me! xD Cliffies are my way of keeping ongoing interest. ;) Let me know how I did! I personally LOVE this chapter. :D

Please, don't forget to READ and REVIEW! XD

God bless,

**~ Silvertongued Dreams**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter Thirty-Six<strong>**: Love Will Find A Way**

_Nothing _could match the look of horror and desperation written deep into his face.

"L—Lord Beckett?!" he questioned: clearly taken aback as he retreated a few steps from me. "But… I thought that… you found him to be quite as intolerable as I do. That… that afternoon where I whisked you away from his clutches… was that all an act?" He paused for a moment: contemplating all the love and pain that had engulfed him these past weeks as I had lain there, helpless, at Lordthorne Hall. "Was—was what we felt… all a lie?"

"Heavens, no! All of it was real. All… of it," I proclaimed: tears streaming down my face. His heartbreak would be my undoing.

"Miss Perrin… _Ariana_… I do not believe you to be of the cruel bent, but if you must refuse me, then, pray, I _beseech_ you… do not mock me, and tell me the honest truth, as I have just now, unreservedly, confessed to you."

"Oh, James! I could never mock you!" I exclaimed, my lip quivering. "I dearly wish that I was… God knows, I wish it. This is not the way I thought my life end up."

"Then, I am afraid that I do not understand," he returned, advancing closer, but still keeping his distance. "Is it not your choice? Is it not your choice to select a suitor that is pleasing to you?"

I scoffed: hanging my head. "Why, yes… in a perfect world, that is how things should have played out. But, unfortunately, we do not live in a perfect world… and, _Lord knows_, my family suffers from the effects of this tainted place. We all must pay for our mistakes… and, my lot, it would seem, is to pay for my father's many sins." My voice deadened into a whisper. _I have said far too much, _I thought to myself: turning to face the crashing ocean waves. The wind blew beige sand past my feet that tumbled over the edge of the craggy cliff, and right then, I found myself wishing that my troubles could blow away… _just as easily_.

"Ariana…," James began, coming up behind me and taking my hand. "You really don't have a choice in this matter, do you?" His tone became far softer, and sympathetic: any trace of anger or hurt now gone from his voice. "Look at me," he entreated: lifting my chin delicately with his hand, so he might stare into my morose eyes. "Let me protect you. I am a powerful man…."

"Oh, James, I can't," I murmured, turning my head as more tears coursed down my cheeks. "James, I love you."

The words struck him like a dagger of ice.

"—And that is why, I cannot bear the thought of you becoming embroiled into this… massive scandal."

"You… are in love with me?" It took some moments for the words to escape his lips. He had no idea how to respond. How does one respond to such a confession? With Elanor, it had been different… he had viewed her as nothing more than a sister. But here and now, with the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with… he felt breathless. Like no words could possibly express what he was feeling. It all made no sense. Again, he wondered… how could he feel so strongly about a woman he had scarcely know a month? His heart was rejoicing, and breaking, all at the same time.

"—Usually, I am not a man of candid words…" he began slowly: his voice quaking, "and, Lord knows, I have surprised myself with this sudden proclamation of admiration. I have stricken aside all laws of common sense and propriety in confessing my feelings in such an uncharacteristically forward manner… but I would do it all again, Ariana. I would do it all again, for you… because, I meant what I said. I am truly in love with you, and would go to any lengths to protect you."

"_Ohhh,_ James," I returned, reaching my hand up his own, which cradled my face. "How I wish I could tell you all that troubles me! You have no idea how blissfully happy you have made me. I do not deserve it."

"You deserve the world, Ariana Perrin," he replied with a bittersweet smile: pressing his forehead to mine: our tears mingling into one single stream. "And I would gladly give it to you, should you consent to be my wife."

I paused thoughtfully for a moment. There was nothing in the world I wanted more. But, unfortunately, my life had not been graced with the luxury of choice. I was in a difficult position. I was the sole person who could secure my family's safety from certain ruin. I had the been the object of affection of three men: one whom I loved as a brother, one who I despised as an enemy, and the _other_… the most perfect match in every way. A man who respected me as I was… not for what he thought or wanted me to be. A man of unquestionable character… and, a man of duty.

_Duty_. The one trait that we both shared in common. And the one trait that would damn our love from ever blossoming.

And with that sad thought in mind, I leaned forward, and, closing my eyes, let my lips collide with his once more.

His lips were a luxury I could no longer afford… an elixir too rich for my fate… and a sweet poison to my breaking heart.

Nevertheless, I needed to taste them one more time.

For this would be the last time I that I could taste them, guiltlessly.

—*****—

For some moments afterward, we stood there in silence. There had been so much in that kiss. It was no ordinary kiss… it was a farewell kiss.

"You… you will not change your mind, will you," James said in knowing tones.

I shook my head. "It is not within my power, I am afraid. Oh, how I wish I could tell you all that afflicts my family! But, alas I have been sworn to the utmost secrecy. Yet, I would break that vow and tell you _all,_ in a heartbeat, if I knew that you could rid us of this agony for good."

"Who says that I could not?" Norrington returned: arching a clever brow as he forced a laugh, more a few more stray tears sliding down his cheek. "As I have said before… I am a powerful man."

"Even so, I cannot risk Lord Beckett's wrath, should I refuse his hand, and he, in turn, spill forth the atrocities that plague my family's name, and would surely destroy us," I replied. "More than anything, James Norrington, I wish that I was a different person, that I might say yes to you over and over—as my heart so desires—with no fear of unjust exaction. But, as it stands, I must be wed to Lord Beckett: I have no choice. However… the one thing I still have control over… the one commodity I still have power over… is the will of my heart. _Take it, _my darling. Take it, and know that, even though I am promised to be another man's wife, _you_—and_ only _you—shall hold command over it, forever."

_This… this _cannot _be it,_ Norrington tried to convince himself. _Two hearts so seamlessly knit together cannot be forced to break apart. Surely, God… this is some kind of test? All I know is, I will not accept this as written in stone. This is an obstacle I must overcome. _We_… must overcome. __**Together.**_

_For, after all… love __always__ finds a way._

* * *

><p><strong>*Ducks flying frying pans and rotten tomatoes* Yesss I knooooow! Sorry! I can be <strong>_**such**_** a sadist sometimes, and feed off of angst. Please, endure. I _promise _that it will be worth it! **:D** Anyway... I personally was quite happy with this fluffy chapter, though! What do you think will happen? Will Norrington and Ariana's love love find a way to endure, despite all odds? Please, leave a** _review_** and let me know! **


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